In Between the Lines: Max and Terry
by NeoNails
Summary: This will be my collection of stories for my 20songs challenge. TerryMax, some friendship some romance...
1. Her Hero

How shocking is this? I'm actually writing Batman Beyond fanfiction. And it's for a _challenge_, no less. Nuts, right?

Okay, _anyway_, this is for 20songs, this little community I found on LiveJournal while I was searching for inspiration. I had already signed up for the X-men: Evolution fandom on 30romances, I find music _so_ inspiring, plus BB is where I first put my inane writings to paper. So, why not make twenty song-shots for Bats? If I don't get to twenty, so be it. At least I can say I tried.

So, here I go.

#3#

**Title:**

**Rating:** T.

**Couple:** Max/Terry

**Song and Band:** "Heroes" by Shinedown

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the song/band, and I most definitely don't own Batman Beyond.

$4$

"Remind me again why I do this?"

Maxine Gibson smirked down at her laptop, taking a bite of the cookie ice cream sandwich she had in one hand. Into her wireless headset, she informed her best friend, Terry McGinnis, "Uh, 'cause you want to save the day while simultaneously placating your monstrosity of a hero complex?"

On the other line, she could hear his deep chuckle. "Hey, now," he chastised. "One insult coupled with big words at a time, please."

Max laughed, bringing up her iSongs 12.6 program to listen to some music on her computer. She needed music, now and again, when she talked with Terry. While he was getting plenty of entertainment beating up the baddies, she got bored sometimes. Finding old music on the Net was her only source of amusement.

Deciding on a particularly ironic song, given the situation, Max replied, "Hey, it's not like I'm wrong. Playing Bats is your only way of relieving that complex of yours."

_"Stare in wonder, who's here to bring you down?_

_Find your martyr, I'm sure you've made the crown_

_So light a fire under my bones, so when_

_I die for you at least I'll die alone."_

She could hear scraping and the sounds of crashes in the background. Terry's job as the one and only Batman wasn't a clean one; more than one time, she had spent her nights wrapping bandages for wounds no one else saw. But Ter was good at his job, if he wasn't then he probably would be doing a whole lot worse.

"Y'know, a hero complex-" he broke off with a grunt, wheezing a little, and continued, "-a hero complex isn't that bad to have, nowadays."

_"Ain't nothin' for me to end up like this_

_There's no comparing me this time."_

Max rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah?" she questioned. "And black eyes and bruises, are they good to have 'nowadays', too?" She sneered down at her computer, annoyed. Somehow, the conversation always came back to this one.

"Hey, hey, hey-" Terry was interrupted again, and she could hear more shuffling and possibly a few curses. He continued on as if nothing had happened, saying, "I haven't gotten a black eye in a while. It's usually the worse injuries I gotta worry about."

_"All my heroes have now become ghosts_

_Sold their sorrow to the ones that pay the most_

_All my heroes are dead and gone_

_But down inside of me, they still live on."_

"Yeah, how's that dislocated shoulder of your doing?" Max asked, arching an eyebrow. She opened her laptop's Solitaire program, looking for some kind of distraction. She only stared at it for a few seconds before loosing interest and closing the program.

There was more crashes and an obvious scuffle in progress. Finally, Terry responded, in between coughs. "Trust me, the dislocated shoulder-" he had to pause for a few seconds, hacking. "-the shoulder's nothing. I've got more'ta worry 'bout."

_"Dark devotion in a vacant paradise_

_Shows no emotion to a willing sacrifice_

_You can put a man on trial, but you can't make the guilty pay_

_You cage an animal, but you can't take away the rage."_

"Oh, really?" She queried, taking a big bite of her ice cream sandwich. Through the cold goodness, she added, "Is Wayne there? I gotta talk t'him about this. Ter, it's'not good for you."

She could hear him snort derisively, which was quickly followed by someone shouting, "Hey! Hands off! I'm leavin', I'm leavin'!" Max rolled her eyes, easily guessing what kind of sleaze ball Terry might be getting rid.

_"Ain't nothin' for me to end up like this_

_There's no comparin' me this time."_

"Yeah, Bruce can hear you," Terry admitted, "But leave 'im alone. He's old, and easily slagged. Having to listen t'some angry seventeen-year-old geek will put stress on his heart that he doesn't need."

Max's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh, yeah, Ter. But I forget- wasn't he the same old man that put on that stupid Batsuit and saved your ass? I'm pretty sure he could handle the ravings of one seventeen-year-old _geek_."

_"All my heroes have now become ghosts_

_Sold their sorrow to the ones who paid the most_

_All my heroes are dead and gone_

_But down inside of me, they still live on."_

He laughed, a deep rumble reverberating through her headset. She enjoyed hearing him laugh; he didn't do it as often, since taking over the mantle as the Bat.

"Calm down, now," Terry replied, conversationally. He really was phenomenal at making it sound like he _wasn't_ endangering his life while talking to someone else on the other line. "I meant 'geek' in the best possible way. After all, I'm your best friend. I know you're schway- you're also just a- whadid'they use'ta call it? Oh, yeah- a computer nerd."

Max took a last bite of her sandwich, glaring down at her ice cream-covered fingers. "You're a jackass, ya know that, McGinnis?" she snapped, leaning over to grab a napkin and wiped her fingers clean.

_"All my heroes have now become ghosts_

_Sold their sorrows to the ones that paid the most_

_All my heroes are dead and gone_

_But down inside of me, they still live on."_

She could hear him chuckle, as well as some new crashes. Standing up, she informed him, "Well, this _computer nerd_ is gonna go now. Pop by if ya'need anything wrapped up, 'kay?"

He agreed, and she turned off the phone line. Max picked up the plate she had rested her cookie ice cream sandwich. Before she did, she paused her iSongs 12.6 as the song ended. Quietly, she sang the last line of the song to herself and walked into the kitchen.

"They're all dead and gone."

$4$

So, how'd I do? Badly? Even if I did, leave a comment. It helps- trust me.


	2. Consider This a Warning

W00t! School is done and over- which gives me the extra time to get this finished:D

Gee, thanks everybody! I really appreciate your support- specifically the people who bothered to review: **Kyoko Kasshu Minamino**, **Knottaclue**, **Alexia8246**, **Jinnai**, and **Silverquickstar**.

I realized (a little belatedly) I never titled the first one, so just pretend the title is the same as the song title. ;)

#3#

**Title:**

**Rating:** T.

**Couple:** Max/Terry.

**Song and Singer:** "Consider This", by Anna Nalick.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything- song, singer, lyrics, _or_ show.

Whoopee.

$4$

"Why do _I_ always have to be the one you bring here?"

Terry looked up out of the corner of his eye and over towards his best friend, Max. She currently clutched a flute of champagne and sported a bored expression. Her eyes drifted around, soaking in the various people that milled throughout the large ballroom.

Smiling as gallantly as he could, Terry gingerly removed the near-empty glass from her iron grip. "I bring you here," he reminded her patiently, "Because you're the only woman I can handle that I know well enough."

Max sighed, rolling her eyes, and willingly gave up the drink. "But it's so _boring_," she groaned staring out to the dance floor, where a variety of couples swayed or even waltzed to the beat. Internally, her mind wanted to bend to the rhythmic beat the band was playing.

"Yeah, but you look so _schway_," he teased, arching an eyebrow in her direction. Max _did_ look schway tonight. She wore the same dress she had bought a year ago for prom, which had mixed animal print covering the sleeveless halter with a plunging neckline and an asymmetrical hemline cut jagged. It was unique, to say the least, and utterly… _Max_.

She shot him her dirtiest look, crossed her arms, and stuck her tongue out. Turning her head, Max stared out at the band, whose singer had since walked out on stage and in front of the microphone. The woman moved to the beat, and began to sing in a soft croon.

_"I've tripped again and things are startin' to get interestin'_

_Don't give me choices 'cause I can't decide_

_My mind is soaked in words_

_I've come to terms with all my insecurities_

_And purity's no friend of mine."_

"Oh, c'mon," Terry wheedled, draping an arm around Max's shoulders. "I know you don't like coming to these stupid parties, but it's part of our job, remember?"

She rolled her eyes yet again, shrugging off his tuxedo-clad arm. "Just because I _have_ to come to these dumb things doesn't mean I actually _want_ to." She continued to watch the singer, enjoying the song and hoping valiantly that the gala exhibition she was forced into attending would end soon. If it wasn't for the fact that this latest exhibition displayed the Wayne-Powers Company's news-breaking technology, she wouldn't have needed to make an appearance. She was, after all, the leading computer programs designer.

_"And dreamin' doesn't do no good_

_'Cause I don't wanna lie_

_That I'm okay and I'm alright_

_I'd rather take and forget it."_

Terry set the two flutes of champagne he had been holding down on a nearby table. "Fine, then," he responded lightly, taking her hand, "If you don't want to be here, I'll just have to _make_ you want to be here." Smiling gallantly, he pulled her closer and added, "Wanna dance?"

For once, Max was so flabbergasted that she couldn't respond. He took this as submission and calmly led her to the dance floor. Once there, she had no reason but to wrap her free arm around his neck and sway, stunned, to the music reverberating from the speakers.

_"Consider this a warning."_

"See," Terry told her patiently, "This isn't so bad, is it?" His smile was just shy of smug, and she resisted the urge to smack him upside the head.

"No, but I still feel like an idiot," Max snapped, glancing around at the expensively dressed couples dancing around her. "I think I'm the only one here who's convinced she might cause bodily to anyone unfortunate enough to dance with her."

_"'Cause I'll start another fight_

_And you'll say, "It's all alright,"_

_I'll wait for the day when you find_

_I'm too much for you baby."_

Terry stared down at her, feigning offence. "Hey. _I'm_ the one dancing with you. And I don't find it _very_ unfortunate." In response, she stepped on his foot. Hard.

He winced. "Then again, there's probably someone here who won't do as much damage to my feet." His pensive look didn't last long, and broke out instead into a full-on grin. "But they don't look as good as you do," he said, as an afterthought.

That, coupled with his wink afterward, caused Max's eyebrows shot up at his sly response. "What?" she asked dryly, "Did you get some tips from Bruce on how to get the ladies fall for you? _Romance for Dummies_, perhaps? Or, wait, I know- _101 Really Bad Pick-Up Lines from the 90s'_."

Terry removed the hand that rested on her waist to press it to his chest, his face riddled with mock guilt. "Oh, that hurts," he whined.

_"So lay your hands over me_

_And feel what you only see_

_But don't bother wasting your time_

_If you're tryin' to change me."_

His grip tightened on her hand, and her only warning was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes before he spun her around on the dance floor.

Max gasped at the action, snapping, "That's not funny, McGinnis!" She glared at him, tightlipped as he laughed, completely unfazed by her anger.

His other arm smoothly wrapped around her waist again and brought her closer to his body than before. "What's wrong, Max? Uncomfortable around me all of sudden, or something?" He winked again, leaning close to her. "'Cause I couldn't understand why you'd feel that way."

_"You're kinda cool but I know better than to break the rules_

_Of messin' with a lesson that I'll never learn_

_I'll go from bad to worse and later back to better_

_But I'll never better bridges that I meant to burn."_

She glowered right on back, unfazed by his cockiness. "Terry, the only time I'm ever uncomfortable around you is when you have a beer, get drunk, and start calling me 'Dana'," she shot back.

Terry's pompous smirk faltered. "Hey," he pouted, "I don't pick on you when you get drunk."

Max looked up at him and calmly retorted, "That's because I'm not dumb enough to get drunk."

"That's nice, Max. Insult the guy that brought you here."

Glancing around, she mumbled, "You didn't do me _that_ much of a favor…"

_"And dreamin' doesn't do no good_

_'Cause I don't wanna lie_

_That I'm okay and I'm alright_

_I'd rather take it and forget it."_

"Hey, hey, hey," he exclaimed. "I'm trying to make you want to be here! Stop trying to undermine me at every turn!"

Max stuck out her tongue. "I'm not trying to undermine you; you're just not giving me good enough reasons to stay."

Terry made an outraged noise, and pulled her even closer than before, so that there was barely enough room for the two to move. "But you're still not convinced that _my_ company alone isn't sufficient?"

Blushing under her dark complexion, Max muttered something, quickly breaking eye contact.

He smirked and leaned closer to Max, so their cheeks were touching. "I thought as much," he whispered in her ear.

_"Consider this a warning."_

She stiffened, trying to ascertain where he was going. Finally, she settled for just remaining flippant, and told him, "You really are a pompous ass, you know that, McGinnis?"

He laughed, but didn't pull away, so she felt his body shake from the laughter as his deep chuckle rang through her ears.

"Yeah, but you love me," he replied happily.

_"'Cause I'll start another fight_

_And you'll say, "It's all alright"_

_I'll wait for the day when you find_

_I'm too much for you baby."_

Max freed her hand from his and reached up to wrap around his neck with her other hand. She used the extra leverage to lean her head back without actually pulling her body away from his. She shined him a cunning smile, and calmly informed him, "Are you _sure_ that the only reason you wanted me to come here as your date was because I'm the only woman you can stand?"

His eyebrows shot up as he watched his best friend smoothly turn the tables. "That…" he stumbled, "That wasn't the onl- I mean, yeah it was- but…" His face turned a lovely shade of scarlet and filled in the blanks. "You're the only one I have eyes for, Maxine," he replied tightly.

_"So lay your hands over me_

_And feel what you only see_

_But don't bother wastin' your time_

_If you're tryin' to change me."_

She couldn't hold back the groan at his cheesiness. "Aw, slaggit, McGinnis! That was just-" She rolled her eyes and shook her head, disgusted.

Terry adjusted his hands so they lay comfortably on each hip, and replied with a laugh, "I think I deserve extra bonus points for being able to say that with a straight face."

Max nodded, conceding defeat. "You do. I regret to admit I'm still an amateur to your flippant, flirty prowess."

_"This is a warning_

_This is a warning_

_This is your warning."_

He narrowed his eyes down at her. "Now you better not be bashing the prowess, because I have no problem embarrassing you in front of everyone with a random, _loud_ declaration of love on my part," he warned her. It was only the sly twinkle in his eyes that belied his ulterior motives.

She gasped in mock horror. "You wouldn't _dare_," she stage whispered. "That's so… _horrendous_!"

_"And dreamin' doesn't do no good_

_'Cuz I don't wanna lie_

_That I'm okay and I'm alright_

_I'd rather take it and forget it."_

Smirking triumphantly, Terry continued on dancing as though nothing had been said. Finally, he muttered into her ear wryly, "Consider this a warning."

_"Consider this a warning."_

Max's only response was a roll of her eyes.

_"'Cuz I'll start another fight_

_And you'll say, "It's all alright."_

_I'll wait for the day when you find_

_I'm too much for you baby."_

_"So lay your hands over me_

_And feel what you only see_

_But don't bother wasting your time_

_If you're tryin' to change me."_

_"If you're tryin' to change me._

_If you're tryin' to change me."_

$4$

Alright, so I'm a little put off that I didn't use the entire song, but it's all good. The way it ended, I'm satisfied. Thank God.


	3. Ain't No Other Bat

Wow, I'm churning these out pretty quickly. I'd like to thank **Silverquickstar**, **Shalina**, and **Kyko Kasshu Minamino** for all reviewing. However, **Kyko** gets brownie points for inadvertently using one of my favorite phrases: "witty repartee". Admittedly, one of the most fun things to say aloud.

God, I'm book nerd.

#3#

**Title:** Ain't No Other Bat

**Rating:** T.

**Couple:** Max/Terry.

**Song and Singer:** "Ain't No Other Man" by Christina Aguilera

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the song, singer, or cartoon.

$4$

Cranking the volume knob to her radio, Max swayed to the beat of the trumpets. Today was Saturday, the day she spent all her time cleaning the apartment she lived in. Officially, her parents and her sister lived there, too, but they spent so much time working and avoiding each other it was more like Max's place alone.

She studied and helped "Batman" out all week long, so the weekends were her only time to clean. And since she absolutely _loathed_ working on Sundays, and she usually didn't have a whole lot to do otherwise, Saturdays were the day to clean.

So, she dressed in sweatpants and a poorly-fitting t-shirt, blasted old 90s and 2000s music, and let everything else fade to the background. It was just Max and her Pledge Whiz 2030. No homework, no phone calls, no Bats.

_Definitely no Bats_, she thought wryly.

_"I could feel it from the start,_

_Couldn't stand to be apart._

_Somethin' 'bout you caught my eye_

_Somethin' moved me deep inside._

_Don't know what you did boy, but you had it- and I've been hooked ever since."_

Max hummed along to the song, familiar to it. Her mother used to play oldies like that one when doing the dishes and cleaning. The singer, whatever her name was, had stopped singing a few decades ago in search of a career in film. She didn't care much for the singer herself, merely the catchy tunes she had sung in the past.

She sprayed her wood coffee table with her Pledge Whiz and rocked her hips to the beat. She hummed a little louder, wiping the table with the built-in, patented Dust-Loc duster that came attached to the spray.

_"I told my mother, my brother, my sister, and my friends_

_Told the others, my lovers- the past and present tense_

_That every time I see you everything starts makin' sense!"_

Max repeated the same dusting process on her bookshelf and her TV's entertainment system. She returned to the radio, turning the dial further to increase the volume before heading into the kitchen.

Her hips swayed, her shoulders swung, and her head bobbed following along to the rhythm of the song. She began mouthing some of the words as she continued to dust the counter, the top of the fridge, and the shelves. She couldn't resist the urge sing along to the music, and began to as she moved into her bedroom.

_"Ain't no other man, can stand up next to you._

_Ain't no other man on the planet does the things you do._

_You're the kind'a guy a girl finds in a blue moon._

_You got soul, you got class, you got style, you badass._

_Ain't no other man, it's true._

_Ain't no other man but you."_

Unknowingly, Max was singing with the song, and continued to do so as she dusted her nightstand, bureau, and dresser. She was fairly close to dancing by this point, and a grin was plastered on her face. The music was entertaining, and it was often she got to let loose.

So it was really no wonder that, midway through cleaning, Max started dancing, singing the lyrics to the song even louder than before.

_"Never thought I'd be alright. No, no, no!_

_'Til you came and changed my life. Yeah, yeah, yeah!_

_What was cloudy now is clear. Yeah, yeah!_

_You're the light that I needed."_

"You got what I want boy and I want it- so keep on givin' it up!"

Max turned around just as she began to sing the hook, only to trail off, slack jawed. This was, of course, because her best friend stood, smirking, garbed in his Bat best, in front of her bedroom window. And there was absolutely no chance he'd ever let her forget it.

"I wasn't aware you were a fan of- what? Cheap blonde pop stars from the nineties?" he commented slyly, unable to keep the smug grin off his face.

She glowered back. "Shuddup, McGinnis."

_"Tell your mother, your brother, your sister, and your friends._

_Tell the others, your lovers, better not be present tense._

_'Cause I want everyone to know that you are mine and no one else's!"_

His smirk grew wider as he realized that he had gotten a successful rise out of her. "But I suppose that wouldn't be half as bad, when taken in consideration with the amount of dancing and singing you coupled with it."

Max set her Pledge Whiz 2030 on her recently cleaned bureau and stared Terry down. Sniffing with disdain, she snapped, "I don't see how you can judge, _when taken in consideration_ that you're a diehard closet Billy Joel fan."

_"Ain't no other man can stand up next to you._

_Ain't no other man on the planet does what you do._

_You're the kind'a guy a girl finds in a blue moon._

_You got soul, you got class, you got style, you badass._

_Ain't no other man it's true._

_Ain't no other man but you."_

Terry's blank mask eyes stared back with what could only be described as mock hurt. "That's harsh," he replied. "Billy Joel is much more of a nineties classic than one of those blonde pop stars. By the way, which one is this one? Jessie Sampson, or that other one? Britney Whatsherface?"

"No, her name is Christina. Aguilera. And I think you're thinking of Jessica _Simpson_, not _Sampson_."

He shrugged ineffectually. "Whatever. You'd know better than me."

_"You are there when I'm a mess._

_Talked me down from every ledge,_

_Give me strength, boy you're the best._

_You're the only on who's passed every test."_

"Are you ever going to forget this?" Max asked, allowing the annoyance to set into her voice.

He laughed, full bodied and long. When he finally stopped laughing, his only response was the simple, rhetorical question of, "What do _you_ think?"

_"Ain't no other man can stand up next to you._

_Ain't no other man on the planet does what you do._

_You're the kind'a guy a girl finds in a blue moon._

_You got soul, you got class, you got style, you badass._

_Ain't no other man it's true._

_Ain't no other man but you."_

Max crossed her arms tightly across her chest and muttered back, "I hate you. Did you know that?"

His smirk returned. "Yeah, I kinda figured. But, I know, deep down, you still love me."

She scoffed. "It's more of a regretful contempt, really. Love is too strong of a word."

"Hate isn't?"

"Not in regards to you, no."

_"And now I'm tellin' you so ain't no other man but you-_

_Hey!!!!!_

_Ain't no other man can stand up next to you._

_Ain't no other man on the planet does what you do._

_You're the kind'a guy a girl finds in a blue moon._

_Baby, baby, baby!!!_

_You got style, with your badass-_

_Don't you know!_

_Ain't no other man it's true._

_Ain't no other man but you."_

"Whatever, Max," he replied casually. Removing his mask, he added with a wink, "I still know your true feelings."

$4$

Have I mentioned how much I love witty repartee? And sexual tension? Because I swear to God, with each progressing songfic, the sexual tension is increasing rapidly. Damn. I guess that means songfic #20 won't be kid-safe.

Yeah, right.


	4. The Rhythm of Their Conversation

Wow, you guys are reviewing these things as fast as I can type them up! Not that I'm complaining, of course. ;) Yet again, bug hugs to **Silverquickstar**, **Kyko Kasshu Minamino**, and **Shalina**- have I mentioned how much you guys all rock?

I swear to God, I think I have an addiction to writing these. It's pretty fun thinking up witty banter and entertaining conversations.

#3#

**Title:** The Rhythm of Their Coversation

**Rating:** T. This one's a little saucier though. Be warned.

**Couple:** Max/Terry

**Song and Band:** "The Sun" by Maroon 5.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the song, band, and/or cartoon.

$4$

Whether well-known factoid or not, Maxine Gibson was not a very patient woman.

She assumed her best friend, Terry, was quite aware of this, but, yet again, he was leaving her hanging, out of her mind with worry.

Currently, she sat in the corner of the last booth in the room, partially hidden by shadows. She nursed a cup of now lukewarm coffee- black- and brooded. Terry had that effect on her.

Back in high school, she was used to saving his ass from Dana's wrath. The petite Asian girl had only his unexplainable tardiness as an excuse to fuel her fury. Meanwhile, when Max noticed his lateness, she was usually overcome with anxiety as her mind produced a myriad of terrifying situations Terry could have gotten himself into.

Being a good best friend was often very hard.

Like tonight. The day had long ago progressed into darkness, and Max had been sitting in the little corner booth for over an hour. She was one of the few occupants in the dingy diner, and was beginning to get antsy. Her only comfort was the soothing oldies floating through a set of hidden speakers.

_"After school_

_Walkin' home_

_Fresh dirt under my fingernails_

_And- I can smell hot asphalt_

_Cars screech to halt to let me pass."_

Max shut her eyes, leaning deeper into the plush, fake leather booth cushions and focused solely on the smooth rhythm of the song. She was a firm believer that music could greatly affect your attitude, and right now, she needed all the calming tunes she could get.

In fact, if she imagined the grimy tabletop was actually a clean, modern glass table, and the booth she was sitting in was in fact a comfy leather couch, she could almost feel the knots that had built up in her neck and shoulders begin to unwind.

Actually, this was very relaxing…

_"And I cannot remember what life was like through photographs_

_And tryin' to recreate images life gives us from our past._

_And sometimes it's a sad song."_

"Max? You okay?"

Her eyes opened in a flash, staring into her best friend's deep, penetrating ice eyes. Almost instantaneously, the muscles in her neck tensed yet again.

_Dammit_.

"What in the hell happened to you?" she questioned dryly, aware of others' presences and smart enough to keep her voice down.

_"But I- cannot forget_

_Refuse to regret_

_So glad I met you and_

_Take my breath away_

_Make everyday_

_Worth all of the pain that I've gone through."_

Terry winced as he slid into the booth across from her, a combination of her tone and the obvious pain involved to inflict those wounds. He presently sported a very nasty, growing black and purple bruise under his left eye, matched with a seriously split bottom lip to compliment the open gash that ran from the top of his hairline to just above his right eyebrow.

"What, did you pick a fight with a bunch of drunken bikers, all complete with their own combination of chains, broken pipes, brass knuckles, and shanks?" Max asked, incredulity lacing her voice.

So much for feeling calm.

_"And Momma, I've been cryin', _

'_Cuz things ain't how they used to be_

_She said, "The battles almost won;_

_And we're only several miles from the sun."_

He gaped, blinking a few times before finally responding, "You're uncannily close to what actually occurred."

Arching a slender eyebrow, Max replied sardonically, "What a surprise." She took a sip of her coffee, only to blanch and sneer down at the poor cup of Joe. "So, what _was_ the difference between my situation and yours?"

His shoulders shifted, the booth adjusting to his weight and the broadness of his chest. "They were drunken _T_ members, not bikers."

She rolled her eyes convincingly. "Oh, of course. My mistake."

_"Now, movin' on, down my street_

_I see people that I'll never meet._

_I think of her, take a breath-_

_Feel the beat in the rhythm of my steps._

_Sometimes it's a sad song."_

Pushing the coffee away, Max examined her stubby, lack of nails. "Do you need a medkit or are you all set?"

He shrugged, only to stop midway with a grimace. "Nothing I can't handle," he mumbled, rubbing his left should gingerly.

"Oh, _that's_ convincing," she said sarcastically. "You have me fooled."

_"But I- cannot forget_

_Refuse to regret_

_So glad I met you and_

_Take my breath away_

_Make everyday_

_Worth all of the pain that I've gone through."_

"Remind me why you're my best friend?" Terry questioned, his eyebrows furrowing together.

"Besides the fact that I've saved your ass more times than I can count?" she shot back. "Or maybe it's just my feminine wiles." Even she couldn't hold back the eye roll.

"Nah, I don't think either one of those are the right reasons," he replied slowly, as if he was actually mulling it over.

_"And Momma, I've been cryin' _

'_Cuz things ain't how they used be._

_She said, "The battle's almost won;_

_And we're only several miles from the sun."_

An annoyed look flickered across her face for only a moment before she snapped, "Alright, wiseass, why _am_ I your best friend?"

His smirk was her only warning before he answered slyly, his voice dropping to a low baritone.

"The sex, of course."

_"The rhythm of her conversation,_

_The perfection of her creation,_

_The sex she slipped into my coffee,_

_The way she felt when she first saw me."_

Max turned a pretty shade of scarlet and scowled deeply. "Say that again and you'll be wishing for those Ts to come and kick your ass and not me."

Terry threw back his head and laughed. "Don't worry, Max," he winked, moving over to grasp her hand in his own. "You'll over to my side eventually."

"You wish," she snapped through gritted teeth, daring him to take it a step further.

He couldn't hide his broad grin as he replied happily, "Oh, all the time."

_"Hate to love and love to hate her_

_Like a broken record player._

_Back and forth and here and gone;_

_And on and on and on and on."_

Her blush intensified and she glared back at him. She attempted to snatch her hand away from his own, but his grip on her tightened.

"Seriously, though, Max," he added, his face sobering. "When are you going to give me a straight answer?"

Max inhaled sharply through her teeth and responded lightly, "I don't know what you're talking about, Terry."

_"But I cannot forget_

_Refuse to regret_

_So glad I met you and_

_Take my breath away_

_Make everyday_

_Worth all of the pain that I've gone through."_

"I'm asking you whether or not you want to have a serious relationship, Max," he told her straightforward. "You can't dodge me forever."

Her eyes widened at his bluntness and swallowed thickly. She had no viable response, stunned into silence.

"Well?" he questioned quietly.

_"And Momma, I've been cryin',_

_'Cuz things ain't how they used to be._

_She said, "The battle's almost won;_

_And we're only several miles…_

_She said the battle's almost won;_

_And we're only several miles from the sun."_

She breathed out slowly, shutting eyes. Smiling lightly, she answered inaudibly, "You're insane."

It was barely there, but she could still feel his hand tighten around hers in anticipation. "Is that a yes?"

Max's shoulders slumped, and her retort was final in its exasperation.

"It's a… maybe."

$4$

Holy spandex, Batman. When I predicted that the sexual tension would increase each songfic, I had _no_ idea this was going to happen. I mean, I know full-well that my muse is a flighty, fickle little bugger, but I never thought it would take that little joke and run for it…

Just as a reminder, these are all one-shots and standalones. That means I'll be jumping all around the timeline. For example, #s 2 and 4 (this one) are set into the future, while 1 and 3 are more their age in the cartoon. This also means I could revisit the whole dating thing, but also don't be surprised if in the next songfic they're still friends.

I told you, my muse is a flighty m.f.-er. ;)


	5. Max's Beautiful Disaster

I'm neurotic, I really am. I'm like a crack fiend, ready for her next fix.

Luckily, writing isn't usually considered bad. But if I keep typing at the speed I am, I'm no doubt likely to develop carpal tunnel syndrome…

Big thanks to **Shalina**, and **Kyko Kasshu Minamino**. I was pleasantly surprised to find someone has actually heard of "The Sun". To me, it's one of Maroon 5's sexiest, most addictive songs ever.

#3#

**Title:** Max's Beautiful Disaster

**Rating:** T. The way I've been going, lately, I'm starting to get a little worried.

**Couple:** Max/Terry.

**Song and Singer:** "Beautiful Disaster" by Kelly Clarkson.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the song, singer, or cartoon.

$4$

"So, what about you, Max? How's that cutie you work for? You two finally, ah, _hit it off_?"

Flinching visibly, Max clutched her fruity, tasty drink in one hand and prayed silently for it all to be over soon.

Chelsea Cunningham, an old friend from back in high school, was throwing her own bachelorette party. Surprisingly, she had invited Max and Dana, as well as a few other girls from their old alma mater.

"No," she replied tightly, "Terry and I aren't together."

The brunette, supposedly one of Chelsea's sorority sisters from a few years past, pouted prettily. "Aww," she said. Brightening, she added, "Can I have his number?"

Max smiled tightly, lying through her teeth as she replied lightly, "Sorry. I don't actually know it."

Pulling her aside, Dana eyed her friend. "How is Terry, Max? We haven't talked since… Y'know."

Max knew well. Dana and Terry had split right after high school and never really saw each other after.

Shrugging, she answered, "The same. He's overworking and over-thinking about work when he's not there."

Rolling her eyes, Dana nodded. "Of course," she answered. "The usual."

She smiled at her longtime friend and leaned against the edge of the bar, listening to the sultry music playing through the speakers. It wasn't like the usual fast, loud rap typically played in bars, but still a smooth quick beat.

_"He drowns in his dreams_

_An exquisite extreme, I know_

_He's as damned as he seems_

_And more heaven than a heart could hold."_

"I never understood Terry," Dana expressed, shaking her head slowly. "It was _always_ work with him. Like, it was the most important thing in the world. Like it was life or death or something!"

"His job _is_ important, Dane," Max reasoned. They had been over this before, and it usually ended the same way.

"I know, I know," she said, holding up a hand in defense. "I just don't understand why _you_ still put up with it."

_"And if I try to save him,_

_My whole world could cave in._

_It just ain't right,_

_It just ain't right."_

"He's my best friend," Max said, an eternal excuse. "He's sweet, and I couldn't imagine working with anyone else for so long."

Rolling her eyes, Dana snorted softly. "Yeah, if you could get his head out of the clouds long enough."

"Hey, you've gotta take the good with the bad, right?" Max rationalized. "He can be… spacey, when it comes to some things, but Ter's the most loyal person I know. Even _you_ have to admit that, Dana."

Sighing in defeat, she nodded. "He _is_ loyal." Quick to establish her point, she added, "But spacey. Very, very spacey."

_"Oh, and I don't know._

_I don't know."_

"Who're you guys talking about?" Chelsea asked, sidling up to the two.

"Terry," Dana answered with another world-weary sigh.

Chelsea nodded knowingly. "Ah," she muttered, "Mr. Punctuality."

That had been Terry's codename over the years, as Dana grew wearier and wearier of his habits. Max never said a word. She was his best friend, ever faithful, but there were some things that couldn't be fixed. Like the now shambles that was Terry and Dana's relationship.

_"And I don't know what he's after_

_But he's so beautiful,_

_Such a beautiful disaster."_

"Leave him alone," Max wheedled sweetly. "Ter's gotten better at arriving on time."

"Yeah," Dana nodded. "To his job."

"You don't understand, Dane," Max confessed. "Terry's… different. He's a great person, and cares about everyone. I mean, doesn't he _still_ send you happy birthday cards each year?"

This one Dana wasn't so ready to admit. Finally, she mumbled, "Yeah."

_"And if I could hold on,_

_Through the tears and the laughter_

_Would it be beautiful?_

_Or just a beautiful disaster?"_

Chelsea arched an eyebrow in disbelief, asking, "Really? That's… chivalrous of him."

Max took a hearty sip of her cosmopolitan. "It is," she agreed sagely. "And that's not the only nice things he does."

Another one of Chelsea's college friends meandered up to the trio. "So, what else does this charming knight in shining armor do?" she asked quizzically.

"Everything," Max confessed with a happy smile. "He's the perfect guy, in his on way."

_"He's magic and myth_

_As strong as what I believe._

_A tragedy with_

_A soul should see."_

"I'd like to have a perfect guy," a second sorority sister complained, holding a brightly colored drink of her own. "You're lucky."

Blinking in surprise, Max shook her head. "Uh, he's not mine." Had there been a note of regret in her voice as she'd said that?

Dana snorted disbelievingly. "Please, Max. He's your _best friend_. You work with him constantly, always talk to him, and regularly make trips to that creepy mansion of his. Like you guys aren't together."

"We really aren't!" Max declared, putting up a hand in defense.

_"And do I try to change him?_

_So hard not to blame him._

_Hold on tight,_

_Hold on tight."_

The other girls, a few of whom had drifted over to their conversation, silently listening in, all stared back at her dubiously.

Finally, Max admitted the truth. "Trust me, if Ter and I were together, you'd know."

Dana's and Chelsea's eyebrows shot up as they eyed each other. They both understood the admission. "Do you _want_ to be in a relationship with him?" Dana asked quietly.

_How we stopped talking about Chelsea's hypothetical male strippers and moved onto my love life, I'll never know,_ Max thought dryly.

_"Oh, 'cause I don't know,_

_I don't know what he's after._

_But he's so beautiful,_

_Such a beautiful disaster."_

"He's my best friend," she reasoned yet again. "I know him better than anyone, and I don't think I've ever met someone who's understood me as well as him."

A pretty blonde in the back smiled. "Aww," she cooed appreciatively. "That's so cute!"

Chelsea smirked. "You _do_ have it bad."

Max's half-smile turned forlorn. "Yeah, I do."

_"And if I could hold on,_

_Through the tears and the laughter_

_Would it be beautiful?_

_Or just a beautiful disaster?"_

All the girls, many of whom had wandered up to the growing group at some point to see what all the hubbub was about, sighed. Mumbled, "That so sweet!"s and whispered, "Adorable!"s could be heard throughout the girls.

"I can't believe I just said that in front of so many people," Max confessed, rubbing her head tiredly.

"Hey, if Chelse can find herself a guy to spend the rest of her life with, why can't you?" Dana said, wrapping her arm around her blonde friend. "And so what if a couple of dozen sorority girls heard you say so? A few Jell-o shots and a cosmo or two and they'll have forgotten it by tomorrow."

_"I'm longin' for love and the logical,_

_But he's only happy hysterical._

_I'm waitin' for some kind'a miracle_

_Waited so long_

_So long…"_

"Whatever happened to the simple stuff?" Max mumbled, leaning heavily against the bar. "Y'know, dorky parties and gossiping about who hooked up with whom?"

Chelsea waved the idea away. "Oh, we still have dorky parties, they're just called weddings." She rolled her eyes. "And we still gossip- just about who's _marrying_ whom."

Dana stuck her tongue out. "We're growing up… God, how un-schway."

_"He's soft to the touch…_

_But frayed at the ends he breaks._

_He's never enough…_

_But still he's more than I can take."_

Rolling her eyes in concurrence, Max raised her pink-filled martini glass. "Well, in any case," she announced, "Here's to finally tying the knot."

All the girls raised their own glasses and took a swig.

_"Oh, 'cause I don't know,_

_I don't know what he's after._

_But he's so beautiful,_

_Such a beautiful disaster."_

A sly look crossed Dana's eyes, and she muttered, so only Max and Chelsea could hear.

"For now."

_"And if I could hold on,_

_Through the tears and the laughter,_

_Would it be beautiful?_

_Or just a beautiful disaster?"_

_"He's beautiful,_

_Such a beautiful disaster…"_

$4$

This is such a pretty song. I know it wouldn't really fit the setting, but it fit perfectly wit the conversation. Not to mention, I'm pretty sure it's just right for Terry and Max.

Have I mentioned how addicted I am to writing these things?


	6. He Loves Me

You guys are the best. **Kyoko Kasshu Minamino** and **Silverquickstar** both reviewed, and thanks a lot for your support. I gotta say, I love checking my AOL e-mail not two hours after posting my latest one-shot and seeing the reviews. It's a great ego booster.

#3#

**Title:**

**Rating:** T.

**Couple:** Max/Terry

**Song and Band:** "He Loves You Not" by dream. I have no idea what possessed me to do this. I can't believe I'm actually writing this song…

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the song/lyrics, singers, or cartoon/characters.

$4$

"Hiya, Mr. McGinnis."

Max suppressed the sudden urge to snicker and fiddled with the volume dial on her speakers. Since working at the Wayne-Powers Company as head of the Technologies Wing, she was used to seeing Terry come from all parts of the building, usually buried in some kind of ancient tome or manila file. It was with this obliviousness that she allowed herself the luxury of installing an iSong 12.6 program to take the edge off the day's monotony.

It was just as she was beginning to play some ancient, one-hit wonder that she spied yet another pretty receptionist attempting to hit on Terry, only to get (to her) a surprising lack of results. As "hot" as Terry was, the only way one of those pretty girls could get him to notice her was if she stripped down naked and started screaming country tunes at top of her lungs.

_"Give it your all, girl, give it all ya got._

_You can take a chance; give it your best shot._

_Say what you want, girl; do what you do._

_He's never gonna, gonna make it with you."_

She watched, amused, as, without looking up from his work, waved and told the blonde, "Yeah, hello, Danielle."

Even more humorous, as Terry continued walking away down the hall, she pouted and shouted after him, "My name's Cynthia!"

While Terry obviously didn't hear the young girl's complaint, he did notice Max laughing ruthlessly as she began typing up yet another complicated algorithm for one of the advanced programs the company was planning.

"What? Do I have toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my foot again?" Terry asked, running a hand through his hair and checking the backs of his feet.

Rolling her eyes, Max muttered, "Of course not, Ter."

_"Pullin' petals off a flower, tryin' to get your way_

_Keep pullin' 'til it says what you want it to say._

_Girl, you can pick a field full of daisies,_

_But he'd still be my baby."_

$4$

"Mr. McGinnis, would you like to dance with me?"

"No, Terry, me!"

"Aww, I thought you were going to save a dance for _me_?"

Sniggering softly, Max sat at a nearby table and watched as a group of beautiful, young women surrounded Terry, just feet from the dance floor. She had been told Bruce was treated similarly by the ladies back in his heyday, and she wondered vaguely if Barbara found it this hilarious.

_"I know you can hardly wait 'til I'm away from him._

_Instinctively, I know what you're thinkin',_

_You'll be givin' him an open invitation,_

_But my baby won't be taken in."_

"Oh, Max! There you are!"

Terry spied her sitting at the table alone, and used the excuse to somehow untangle himself from the gaggle of hormonal ladies that were currently plaguing him. Of course, it never occurred to him the reaction of women he left in his dust, or the menacing looks they'd be shooting over at Max.

"Having fun?" Max asked wryly, arching an eyebrow. "I think you might've made a lot of girls disappointed."

Without looking back, he smiled down at her and told her confidently, "They'll get over it."

_"You can pout your cherry lips._

_Try to tempt him with a sweet kiss._

_You can flirt your pretty eyes._

_He ain't got his hands tied."_

"Aw, I dunno, Ter. They look pretty depressed. Don't you want to cheer them up?" Max reasoned, batting her eyes sadly.

Pulling a chair over to sit next to her, he plopped down in it and answered happily, "Nope."

She snickered and glanced heavenward. "Can't say I blame you," she mumbled under her breath.

_"No chains to unlock,_

_So free to do what he wants._

_He's into what he's got._

_He loves me, he loves you not."_

$4$

"Alright. One… two… three!" 

On that count a number of Wayne-Powers employees, crowded around the bar, grabbed their individual shots and downed them as fast as possible in one gulp.

Terry stood not far away from the group, and was up against a wall as some attractive redhead from accounting cornered him, determined to whisper sweet nothings in his ear (much to his chagrin). Next to them was Max, wedged between the tequila shooters and a very uncomfortable Terry.

"I'll have a Heineken," she ordered, catching the bartender's attention. However, her ears were wide open as she listened to the girl wheedled, determined to spend some time "getting to know" Terry.

_"No matter what you do,_

_He's never gonna be with you._

_He's into what he's got._

_He loves me, he loves you not."_

"You'd _love_ my apartment," the girl gushed. "I have Egyptian cotton sheets. _Five_ hundred thread-count."

"I- I would love, uh, Tiffany," Terry stuttered. "But, I'm, uh-" shooting a desperate glance over at Max, he added, "I'm Max's designated driver. You wouldn't want Max to drive home drunk, would you?"

Max froze, the bottle of beer inches from her mouth, and eyed the redhead. It was quite plain from the dirty look that the accountant didn't give a rat's ass about her well-being, especially if it imposed on her one night with "Terry McGinnis".

_"You're the kind of girl that's always up for do or dare._

_Only want him just because he's there._

_Always lookin' for a new ride,_

_The grass is greener on the other side."_

However, Max wanted nothing to with them. "But, Ter," she responded, wide eyed. "_500-count Egyptian cotton sheets_."

Glancing back down at the redhead, Terry politely disengaged himself from her grip. "She's pretty toasted. I should get her home." He muttered some form of goodbye before grabbing Max and dragging her away and to the door.

_"You're the kinda girl that's not used to hearin' no._

_All your lovers try to take you where you wanna go._

_It doesn't matter how hard you try, you're never gonna get with my guy."_

$4$

_"No chains to unlock,_

_So free to do what he wants._

_He's into what he's got._

_He loves me, he loves you not."_

Max fumbled, slamming her radio to shut off the music playing, and shoved some of the mess that layered her tabletop.

She hopped up on top of the aforementioned table, dragging his face closer to her own. In between kisses, she mumbled, "Whatever happened to dancing with Sherri?"

Terry kissed her harder and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Which one was Sherri?" he wondered aloud.

_"No matter what you do, he's never gonna be with you._

_He's into what he's got,_

_He loves me, he loves you not."_

She laughed and hooked her legs around his waist. He seemed to appreciate this, but Max felt the need to pull back. "You're drunk," she muttered, trying not to get distracted as he began to nuzzle the crook of her neck.

"So're you," he pointed out, pressing feather light kisses up and down her neck.

Grimacing, she regretfully moved her neck away from his mouth, and replied, "Yeah, but I have the common sense to remember that you'll be guilty tomorrow morning."

Staring into her eyes, he smirked and shot back, "Hey. I resemble that remark."

"_Give it your all, girl, give it all ya got._

_You take your chance at a second-hand shot._

_Say what you want, girl, do what you do._

_He's never gonna make it with you."_

"Yeah, Ter," she agreed, slowly unwrapping her legs from around him. "Yeah, you do."

Before she could, he grabbed her legs to keep her from pulling away. "Hey, now. Just because we're both drunk and disoriented doesn't mean we can't have fun, right?"

Max shook her head and untangled her legs. "Nice try, McGinnis. But I know you. I may not be able to think right… right now, but-" Her eyebrows furrowed together, and finally she shook her head. "Doesn't matter. You'll regret it. Go home, before I change my mind."

He eyed her for moment. "You change your mind yet?"

"No."

"_You can pout your cherry lips._

_Try to tempt him with a sweet kiss._

_You can flirt your pretty eyes._

_He ain't got his hands tied."_

Pressing a short, sweet kiss to his mouth, she pushed him towards the door to her apartment. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ter."

He groaned at the thought of going to work the next day and headed home. "Dammit."

"_No chains to unlock,_

_So free to do what he wants._

_He's into what he's got._

_He loves me, he loves you not._

_No matter what you do, he's never gonna be with you._

_He's into what he's got._

_He loves me, he loves you not…"_

$4$

I don't actually have much to say about this one. I liked the idea, but it didn't work out as I'd hoped. It was cute, though. That's something.


	7. Tangled in Your Web

#3#

**Title:**

**Rating:** T.

**Couple:** Max/Terry

**Song and Band:** "Tangled" by Maroon 5.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the band/singer, song/lyrics, or cartoon/comic.

$4$

"Ter? Bruce? You guys down here?"

Max peeked down the long flight of stairs that connected the legendary Batcave with Mr. Wayne's clock/door. She knew there was a good chance that the older man had gone to bed; as graduation drew closer, he began trusting Terry more and leaving him on his own for an hour or two.

But so far, she hadn't spotted hide nor hair of the current Bat. She walked down the flight of stairs, eyes trained on the giant computer, in the off-chance Terry was still out.

Instead, the only response coming from the computer were the jazz-like, haunting tunes playing through the hidden speakers. That meant someone had to have turned on the computer's inset radio, and someone still had to be in the 'cave' in order to listen to it.

_"I'm full of regrets_

_For all the things that I have done and said._

_And I don't know_

_If it'll ever be okay to show_

_My face around here._

_Sometimes I wonder if I'd disappear."_

Max scanned the room quickly. No signs of life. _What in the hell is going on here?_, she wondered.

"Shit."

She spun around, searching for the voice. Sure enough, with his back to her, Terry was half bent over, standing only in a pair of jeans.

She could see old remnants of scars on his back most of which had faded away, some that still left ugly white lines of battles lost. Near his lower back, she could see the beginnings of a thick white bandage, most likely attempting to cover another soon-to-be scar.

_"Would you ever turn your head and look-_

_See if I'm gone._

_'Cause I fear_

_There is nothing left to say to you."_

But even Max could appreciate the view. Under the unattractive scars, she watched his muscles stretch and tighten, struggling to wrap whatever injury might have been inflicted.

"Ter? Wat'd'ja do now?" she asked quietly, watching as he jumped a good foot in the air from surprise.

"Oh. It's nothin', Max," Terry said, his broad shoulders slumping with relief as he recognized her. "Just the same old."

_"That you wanna hear,_

_That you wanna know-_

_I think I should go._

_The things I've done are way too shameful."_

She stared back skeptically as she took in his appearance. Strong, expansive shoulders followed by a wide, muscular chest, tapering down to a six-pack Coca Cola cans would be jealous of. But halfway down that stomach of his was a long, deep, red gash. It looked like it also continued on a fair's way around his back.

"Oh, yeah," she replied sarcastically. "It's nothing. Hey, a dozen hours from now, when you're half-dead from a lovely infection, tell me and Bruce that again. So I'll have something to laugh about _at your funeral_."

He winced. "Hey, I've got enough right now, dealing with the rapid blood loss. Can we keep the condescension and disappointment from you voice until tomorrow morning, at least?"

"It _is_ tomorrow morning, you ass," she growled, snatching the roll of gauze from his hands.

_"You're just so innocent,_

_A helpless victim of a spider's web._

_And I'm an insect,_

_Goin' after anything that I can get."_

She eyed his wound, mentally trying to wrack her brain as to what might've caused the cut. The gash was thin, but deep, and a long, smooth line. "Was it… a sword?" she mumbled, reaching over to take the medical take off the table.

"Some freak dressed up as a ninja in hopes of what I can only guess was killing his wife," Terry formed her factually.

She pressed a bit of gauze against the wound, checking to see how well it was clotting and the amount of blood loss. She barely noticed Terry hiss, gritting his teeth at the unexpected pressure.

_"So you better turn your head and run,_

_And don't look back_

_'Cause I fear_

_There is nothin' left to say to you."_

"Yet again, McGinnis," Max muttered. "You're in luck. It seems the cut's clotting fairly well, but you'll need to keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn't get infected." As a second thought, she looked up and asked, "You _did_ clean first, right?"

"Hey, I'm not _that_ dumb," he groused. "I cleaned it first."

"Good," she muttered, pressing the length of gauze tight against his skin. This time, she heard his groan, but was too busy securing the gauze with medical tape to be bothered by his reaction.

_"That you wanna hear,_

_That you wanna know-_

_I think I should go,_

_The things I've done are way too shameful."_

"You know, Bruce would probably- ow- let you come around more often- ouch- if you weren't so snippy- do you have to press so hard?" Terry groused, glaring down at his best friend. Her only response was to shoot him her most withering glare and stubbornly press the gauze a little harder.

"_Ouch_," he growled, snatching her hand away from his wound. "That's not nice, Maxine. You're supposed to play _nice_ with the other kids."

_"And I've done you so wrong_

_Treated you bad_

_Strung you along_

_Oh, shame on myself_

_I don't know how I got so tangled…up."_

Max lifted her head up, staring into his light eyes. She lifted her free hand to wrap casually around his neck, while she leaned to whisper in his ear, her dark cheek gently brushing against his pale one. "Oh?" she asked innocently. "That so, Ter? I'm supposed to play _nice_?"

She felt his grip on her wrist go slack and heard him swallow audibly. "Huh," she continued, "I've never been good at that."

Max effortlessly pulled back, turning away from her best friend. She headed back to the stairs, hips just barely swaying.

$4$

Good God, I'm close to hiding my face in shame. This one is… poorly written, to say the least. I held this one off from posting because it really isn't all that good. Very drabble-y, and totally incoherent. I'm really ashamed of myself. XP


	8. No More Contestants

God, I am _such _a loser.

…Ummm…

Happy belated Easter?

(To those of you that celebrate it- if not, Happy soon-to-be Passover?)

I'm so sorry you guys ('specially **Kyoko**- I am alive! I really am!). I have to be the most fickle person in the entire world. I suppose you can blame most of this crap on my muse. She's a pain in the ass. She can't focus on a damn thing for longer than a few months, then we're on to more interesting things.

And then I was listening to my iPod today, and I remembered an old Nickelback favorite of mine. And Natalie (the dreaded muse) just wouldn't _shut up_. Though, I have to say, this'll be interesting.

Of, course, you gotta realize this has to be read as Adult!Terry and Max. Or maybe even AU, if you wanna be a pain about it.

#3#

**Title:**

**Rating:** T. Sorry for the language. And the content. But you guys are mature. You can handle it. (I hope)

**Couple:** Max/Terry

**Song and Band:** "Next Contestant" by Nickelback

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the song/band, and I most definitely don't own Batman Beyond.

4

"Waitress! Yo! Over here!"

Max rolled her eyes, smiled briefly at the couple sitting in the dimly lit booth, and set thei drinks down. She pivoted on her heel and stalked over to the raucous group of frat buddies that had taken up _four tables_. Eighteen horny jackasses, all with her name on 'em.

Dammit.

As she got closer to the table, one of the guys openly checked her out. She fought back a blush as he surveyed her black, capped sleeve t-shirt- about two sizes too small in the chest area, and constantly riding up to reveal her dark, flat stomach- and dark blue jean miniskirt. On her feet she wore respectable black Pumas- must have when carting around drink after drink to the many inebriated guests at the bar.

She didn't _normally_ dress like this. She knew that some things were best left covered. However, this particular garb was required for all the waitresses that worked at Dave's Bar and Grill.

_I judge by what she's wearing_

_Just how many heads I'm tearing off_

_Of assholes comin' on to her._

_Each night seems like it's getting worse._

Once she reached his table, he sent her a sly wink and told her, "We'd like four pitchers of beer." He glanced around the table with a smug grin and added, "And your cell number, while we're at it."

Max barely- _just barely_- repressed the sudden undeniable urge to roll her eyes. She quickly scribbled down the order on the pad of paper she always kept in her back pocket. As soon as she did, she hightailed it out of there- booze and assholes don't mix too well.

"You guys all good?" She asked, coming up to the next table of the dozen or so she was manning tonight. This was an easy one, though. Just three guys, all of them pretty geeky looking.

In other words, her kind of people.

_And I wish she'd take the night off_

_So I don't have to fight off_

_Every asshole comin' on to her._

_It happens every night she works._

All three of them turned bright red behind their thick, Coke bottle glasses when she spoke. One even started choking.

Again, Max mentally rolled her eyes, but she managed to muster up a smile for the guys. "You okay, there?" she asked him, giving him a hearty pound on the back.

The tallest of the three dorks waved away his friend's coughing. "Oh, he's fine," he replied in a nasally voice. "It's just… you see, you bear an _uncanny_ resemblance to that of Oona of the Third Moon of Jupiter. She's the god of _all_ of Jupiter's moons, actually. Well, she's a goddess, not a god." He snickered at his own- joke?- and snorted.

Max repressed a sigh. Really, why did she always attract the weirdos and freaks?

Still, she shot them another smile- this one much more subdued. "That's… nice," she told them drily, and promptly hauled ass out of there.

_They'll go and ask the DJ_

_Find out just what would she say_

_If they all try comin' on to her._

_Don't they know it's never gonna work?_

She all but ran to the bartender, who was busy mixing cocktails for those both sitting and standing at the bar. It was a Saturday at eleven, which meant the dimly lit restaurant was packed. Every table and booth was filled, along with the bar, and the small dance floor on the other side of the room was at maximum capacity.

"God," Max groaned, picking up three plastic pitchers and setting them on the bar table. "I always get the horny pricks. How come I can never serve nice people who have no interest staring at my boobs or commenting on my ass?"

Steve, who was working behind the bar and was thankfully gay, shook his head. "Oh, sugar, I know. But don't worry. Your shift will be over in a few hours. You just need to suck it up until then." He sent her a dazzling smile.

Max sighed tiredly. Steve had himself an adorable little boyfriend, so he was no help to the plight of a pink-haired, straight, college student who was fed up with getting hit on.

"You know," she continued on tiredly, pouring more beer into the third pitcher, "I'm just doing this for extra money while I'm finishing college. But I'm starting to realize that maybe I'd be better off working at the local CVS."

_They think they'll get inside her_

_With every drink they buy her_

_As they all try comin' on to her._

_This time somebody's getting' hurt._

One of the guys sitting at the bar caught her eye. "Hey, pretty lady," he said with an over-exaggerated smirk. "How 'bout I buy you a drink?"

Steve stared at him in amazement. "Sorry, darling," he told the guy with a sad smile. "She only buys drinks from _sober_ guys." He winked and added, "Better luck next time, chap."

Max finished filling up her last pitcher, shaking her head. "It's a sad day when I have to be saved by my gay bartender friend," she informed him with a long-suffering sigh.

_Here comes the next contestant._

As fast as possible, Max dropped off her pitchers at the Frat Boy table and scrambled out of there before any of them could use any more of their shitty pick-up lines on her.

She was about to head back to the bar when she spotted a couple of very familiar people. "Dana!" she exclaimed, practically crying with relief. She was sitting with an entire table of _all girls_. Thankfully, nearly every one of the girls she was sitting with Max knew.

"Holy crap!" Dana replied, squinting as her friend weaved around the tables to run up to their booth. "Max?"

Grinning broadly, she bear hugged her petite, Asian friend. "I can't tell you how boring it can be, serving drinks all night. It's nice to see someone I recognize now and again. Thank God."

Dana laughed and sat back down at her table. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure we're not the only ones that you might recognize here," she replied with a wink. "If you catch my drift."

Max's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "I don't," she said. "What do you mean?"

Dana rolled her eyes. "Oh, never mind."

_Is that your hand on my girlfriend?_

_Is that your hand?_

_I wish you'd do it again-_

_I'll watch you leave here limping._

_I wish you'd do it again-_

_I'll watch you leave here limping._

_There goes the next contestant._

Max stepped back from the table, grinning at the several girls she recognized from the various courses she took at GCU.

"_Hola, chicas!_"

Max half-turned around to see three girls run off from the dance floor, shaking their respective booties. A tall, striking Latin girl sauntered up to Max. "Hey," she said with a smile. "You one of the waitresses?"

The pink-haired girl nodded. "You need a refill?"

The Latina girl shook her head. "Nah," she replied nicely. "Just the usual." Eyeing her surreptitiously, she said conversationally, "Nice ass." And then promptly slapped the aforementioned area.

_I even fear the ladies-_

_They're cool but twice as crazy-_

_Just as bad for comin' on to her._

_Don't they know it's never gonna work?_

Max's eye got as big as snickerdoodles, but past experiences of similar situations made her bite her tongue.

Dana watched the entire thing unfold, and started cackling, a sure sign the girl was more than a little tipsy.

Shaking her head, Max carefully backed away from the table, and mumbled quick goodbyes.

"This is _insane_," she growled.

_Each time she bats an eyelash_

_Someone's grabbin' her ass._

_Everyone keeps comin' on to her._

_This time somebody's gettin' hurt._

Max slipped behind the bar, shaking her head in amazement. "I've had people grabbing my ass before," she said tiredly. "But I can never get used to it when another girl grabs my ass. I'm just never _friggin' ready for it_."

Steve gasped. "No _way_," he said in shock. "You really _do_ catch all the crazies. Was this one hot, at least? I mean, I can't tell- I just tell if they're dressed hot."

Max smacked his arm. "I can't either!" she snapped. "I'm straight! As in, I can't get used it when other _girls_ grab my _ass_!"

_Here comes the next contestant._

Max managed to collect what little dignity she had left and wander dazedly back to the Frat Boy table, as they had been trying to flag her down for a couple of minutes.

"You guys need more beer?" she asked flatly. Eyeing their table, she realized that that wasn't it. There was at least a pitcher and a half left on the four adjoined tables. More than enough to last… oh, gee, maybe five more drinks?

"Nope," the Frat Boy Leader replied with what Max imagined was supposed to be a charming smile. "Just wanted to know why I haven't gotten your cell number yet."

_Is that your hand on my girlfriend?_

_Is that your hand?_

_I wish you'd do it again-_

_I'll watch you leave here limping._

_I wish you'd do it again-_

_I'll watch you leave here limping._

_There goes the next contestant._

This time, Max didn't hold back; she rolled her eyes, and in plain sight of the jackass. "Listen, buddy," she snarled, no longer tired. "If I wanted to get hit on by some loser at a bar, I'd be trolling through bars _for_ losers like you. But I'm not. I work here. _That's it_. So leave me the hell alone."

Max turned to stalk off in a huff, but before she could, a hand snaked around her wrist and grabbed her tightly.

"Did I say you could leave?" Jackass Frat Boy said coldly.

_I'm hating what she's wearing_

_Everybody here keeps staring_

_Can't wait 'til they get what they deserve._

_This time somebody's gettin' hurt._

Max turned around slowly, with every intention of hitting this guy until his ancestors felt it, when another voice behind her piped.

"Did I say you could touch her?"

Oddly, Max recognized that voice.

"Terry?"

_Here comes the next contestant._

Jackass Frat Boy was on the ground with one swift move. Max could do nothing but stare in disbelief at her best friend, as he easily picked the guy up by shirt with only one hand and snarled something into Jackass Frat Boy's ear.

Terry dropped the cursing guy back into his chair. Immediately, the guy reached for napkins to stem the flow of his bleeding nose.

Max arched an eyebrow at the frat boys and looked up at her best friend. "You know," she informed him drily. "I was going to handle that. On my own. I didn't need your… uh, _help_."

He didn't smile at her joke. Instead, he grabbed her wrist- the same one Jackass Frat Boy had grabbed- and dragged her away.

_Is that your hand on my girlfriend?_

_Is that your hand?_

_I wish you'd do it again-_

_I'll watch you leave here limping._

_I wish you'd do it again-_

_I'll watch you leave here limping._

'Away' turned out to be the dark hallway that led to the bathrooms and back exit of the bar and grill. Max eyed her cramped surroundings skeptically.

"Is, uhh, there somethin' you need to tell me, T-"

Max was stopped abruptly by Terry pressed his lips against her own. Her mouth fell open in surprise, and he took this as an opportunity to slip his tongue inside.

She bit back a gasp at the sudden, very pleasurable, attack, but that quickly turned into a throaty moan when he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer so that every inch of her was touching him.

_I wish you'd do it again!_

_Each night seems like it's getting worse!_

_I wish you'd do it again!_

_This time somebody's gettin' hurt!_

_There goes the next contestant._

While his hands continued to roam up and down her body, Terry stopped kissing her long enough to plant several hot, openmouthed kisses along her jaw line and throat.

With some great effort, Max was able to push Terry's head up so he was at least looking her in the eye.

"What," she asked, her chest heaving, "Is going on here? Not that I mind," she hastened to assure him.

He was breathing just as hard, but he was able to grin roguishly at her before dipping his head back down to kiss a sensitive area where her jaw met her ear that made her moan in surprise. "I don't like it when those dregs manhandle _my_ girl."

Max gasped at his kisses, and couldn't stop herself from burying her hands in his dark locks. She didn't miss his possessive tone, a thought that sent her mind racing with excitement.

She dragged his head up and kissed him roughly. Somewhere in between the kisses, she murmured, "Consider my employment here _finished_."

4

Whew. That was… um… _wow_.

I guess I was right when I said that this might end up getting hot and heavy.

Sorry if Max is a little OOC. It's been a while, and I'm a tad rusty.

Think this makes up for disappearing for several months?


	9. What's My Last Name Again?

God, I'm friggin' useless. I'm sorry I never write.

This is a one-shot, but in **NO WAY **tied with my _In Between the Lines_ series. It is a songfic, but I don't want to get you guys all confused.

:)

I have a feeling y'all will like this one, though…

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything. Well, 'cept this one story I'm writing, but will probably never be finished, anyway.

**Characters:** It's pretty much Max-centric. Don't get it confused with any of my other crap. This one's different. You'll have to read to properly understand. :D

4

"Mrmph."

Maxine Gibson was mentally going through a list of every curse she had ever learned in her 22-year-old long life as she gingerly picked her head up from off of the pillow she had been sleeping on. Sunlight slid through the slanted shades on the window across from the bed and pierced behind her eyes.

Her muscles ached in places they shouldn't, her head pounded to a beat she couldn't identify, her skin felt like it was on fire, and her she saw brightly colored stars behind her eyes. It was the makings of a hangover from hell.

What in God's name had she gotten into?

_Last night _

_I got served_

_A little bit too much_

_Of that poison, baby._

Something heavy and warm was draped across her bare shoulders. She was laying face-down on the bed, and she couldn't think of a single thing in her apartment bedroom that would feel like that. And… wait a second… the window in her apartment faced the _left _side of her bed, not the _right_.

Max's head shot bolt upright. She didn't recognize this bed. Or the sheets. Or the pillows. Or the paint on the walls. This wasn't her room!

Oh, God. What did she do last night?

_Last night_

_I did things _

_I'm not proud of_

_And I got a little crazy._

Okay, she needed to calm down. She needed to breathe and think. Last night, she went to a black-tie gala opening with Terry until ten. From there, they headed over to her apartment to change (Terry always kept a change of clothing at her place, after she found out about his secret identity). They went out to a local nightclub where Dana, Ter's ex-girlfriend, was celebrating her 21st birthday and breaking out the alcohol for the occasion.

After that… things got really fuzzy. She had drunk a glass of champagne at the gala, and she remembered drinking at least one bottle of Heineken before doing two or three Jell-o shots with Chelsea.

She had danced with Terry after the Jell-o shots, and that was followed by another beer. And then… she went back to the dance floor. And she started dancing with a guy.

_Last night_

_I met a guy_

_On the dance floor_

_And I let call me baby_

Who _was_ that guy? She couldn't even remember what he looked like. She tried to conjure up images of the man in question, but failed to do so. It was like someone had gone through her memory and slid a black, fuzzy mask over the guy she had danced with.

The worst part? She wasn't entirely sure she had _just_ danced with him. Max turned her head and glanced on what was the heavy, warm object that was draped across her back.

It was a guy's arm. A guy's _bare_ arm.

_And I don't even know his last name!_

_My momma be so ashamed_

_Started off, "Hey, cutie, where ya from?"_

_And then it turned into, "Oh, no. What've I done?"_

_And I don't even know his last name._

She carefully extracted herself from the unnamed man's arm, and turned around so she was laying on her back. That was when she noticed something important:

_She wasn't wearing a shirt._

Or a bra, for that matter.

And so, she quickly yanked up the nearest sheets to cover herself while she searched the foreign room desperately for anything she could wear. As an afterthought she quickly lifted the covers. Okay. She still had her panties on. That was something.

There was a very masculine button-down shirt in a pale blue that was thrown casually on the floor. The shirt gave off warning bells. The shirt had definitely belonged to the dance-floor-guy. Worse still, she had a very vivid and embarrassingly pleasant memory of unbuttoning his shirt while kissing him at some point during the night.

Max quickly grabbed the shirt and threw it on, then slid out of the covers, barely feeling the cool hardwood flooring as her feet hit the ground. She sure as hell had gotten into interesting shenanigans in only a few hours.

_We left_

_The club_

_Right around 3 o'clock_

_In the morning_

If she recalled the night correctly, it was really late when she finally left the dance club for the night. It was around 2 o'clock in the morning, actually. She had glanced at her D & G watch minutes before the mystery man had kissed her and led her to his car.

His car… it was certainly something. The car was sleek and black, and low to the ground. She remembered the little number purred like a kitten when he turned it on. The car was fast, too. He handled it amazingly well, considering neither one of them was totally sober.

_His Pinto_

_Is Sitting there_

_In the parkin' lot_

_Well, that should've been a warning._

Good God, she was far from sober. She was way too far gone that night. She had blacked out, for Christ's sake! She couldn't remember the name of a guy she had sex with at a hotel!

Max staggered over to the large, floor-length bay windows and wrapped the strange shirt tighter around her curvy body, stunned. She slept with a guy. She slept with a guy she hadn't even known for 24 hours. She slept with a guy she hadn't even known for 24 hours and _she didn't know his name!_

She was going to hell. There was no doubt. God didn't forgive sins this ridiculously wrong.

_I had_

_No clue_

_What I was gettin' into_

_So I blame it on the Cuervo._

_Oh, where did my manners go?_

Why on Earth did she drink? Even when Max turned the legal age, she only had a glass of wine and a beer or two. She never went over the top. She never drank over the limit.

Which probably explained how easy it was for her to drink herself under the table. Alcohol and Max clearly did not mix. So why did she feel the need to knock back so many glasses last night?

There was the Heineken, the Jell-o shots, and the Cuervo. Why the hell did she drink the Cuervo? She hated Cuervo. Cuervo was nasty.

If it wasn't for the Heineken, the Jell-o, and the Cuervo, she wouldn't have had sex with some unidentifiable guy.

_And I don't even know his last name!_

_My momma would be so ashamed_

_It started out, "Hey, cutie, where ya from?"_

_And then it turned into, "Oh, no. What've I done?"_

_And I don't even know his last name._

Max turned her head away from the windows and stared at the form still asleep on the bed. He was lying on his stomach as well, and sheets had twisted around his lower half. One of the several pillows the hotel afforded him was currently covering the back of his head, so she couldn't even see his hair color, or if he had any hair at all.

Judging by the broadness of his shoulders and the muscles that ran along his back, Max could put half of her bank account that the guy was hot. He was probably a bodybuilder or some other kind of conceited jerk. She probably would've hated him if she had met him sober.

He had to be a jackass. That would serve her right. For getting drunk and stupid, her punishment was having sex with a total stranger that happened to be an utter loser and asshole.

_Today_

_I woke up_

_Thinkin' 'bout Elvis somewhere- in Vegas_

_I'm not sure_

Max ran her hand through her hands through her dyed magenta hair and winced when her hand caught on her hair. She tried to remove her hand from her hair, but found she couldn't. Her hair had caught on something that was hooked on both her hand _and_ her hair.

Finally, she managed to remove her hand from her hair. She gently massaged the section of raw scalp as she examined her other hand. When she caught sight of her hand, however, her stomach plummeted dangerously and she was forced to run straight for the nearest bathroom. Luckily, the door to the bathroom was open, so she could easily find the toilet.

About ten minutes and multiple gurgles with the mini bottle of mouthwash the hotel provided them, Max wasn't feeling any better. In fact, she was probably feeling worse. The hangover she had been feeling before was cake compared to the dizzying head rush, the sensation of her heart in her throat, the emptiness in her stomach, and the feeling that everything was going to change- for the worst.

_How I _

_Got here_

_Or how this ring on my left hand just appeared_

_Outta no where._

In the dim lights of the bathroom, Max took her time to examine her left hand. Specifically, the _ring_ finger on her left hand. On which sat, of _course_, a _ring_. Oh, but this wasn't any ring in particular, no. This was a very pretty, very sparkly, very _huge_ diamond ring.

It was probably three carats. Right there. On Max's finger. In what had to be a platinum setting, with a smaller half-carat diamond on each side.

She had slept with a guy she had only met a few hours before, but she didn't know his name. Now, she had not only slept with this guy, but she had also MARRIED him and still didn't know his name?!

Oh, this was worse. She wasn't just going to hell. She was going somewhere much worse, like one of those circles of hell that Dante explains in the _Inferno_.

_I gotta go_

_And take the chips_

_And the Pinto_

_And hit the road._

Max walked out of the bathroom, looking around the room to make sure he was still asleep. Luckily, he _was_ still asleep, which made everything so much easier for her. She slipped out of the bathroom and quickly began gathering her clothes, all of which were strewn across the floor.

She was in the midst of picking up her bra from where it had been tossed, amazingly, on the top of the bureau, when she caught sight of something glinting in the pocket of that guy's jeans.

Delicately, Max removed a set of keys from his jeans. The keys that controlled the expensive, sexy, sleek, black thing that he had drove.

Attached to his wallet was a chain that connected to an equally expensive black leather wallet. When she opened the wallet, she immediately noticed that there were no photos inside the wallet, but a careful examination revealed that were a staggering twelve hundred dollars cash in it.

_They say what happens here stays here_

_All of this will disappear._

_There's just one little problem:_

No. Max couldn't do that. She couldn't take his money and his card and leave him in the dust…

Well, maybe she could. That had to be more than enough money to get her away from wherever she was, and hopefully on to whipping up the appropriate divorce papers for a very hasty annulment.

Even though she was stuck in a hotel married to a man she didn't actually know the name of, Max knew she wouldn't be able to take his money. And his car. That just wasn't the right thing to do.

_I don't even know my last name!  
Oh, my momma would be so ashamed._

_It started off, "Hey, cutie, where ya from?"_

_And then it turned into, "Oh, no. What've I done?"_

_I don't even know my last name._

Max carefully refolded the bills and placed them and the keys back in his jeans. From there, she began redressing, pulling on her jeans first.

Terry can help her out. Yeah, that would work. Terry had connections. He would know who to talk to, who would help her get through a speedy annulment. He and Mr. Wayne would know which judges she would need to speak to first.

_What have I done?_

_What have I done?_

_What have I done?_

_I don't even know my last name!_

Max threw on her black silk blouse. At the nightclub, she had looked daring and sexy. However, when the lights were on, she was embarrassed by the amount of skin she was baring.

Instead of focusing on her low-rider, straight-legged jeans and skimpy halter, she tried to get her thoughts in some kind of focused order. Problem was, it was hard to focus with a sleeping stranger in the room with whom she was now officially married.

_Well, it turned into, "Oh, no. What've I done?"_

_And I don't even know my last name!_

Throwing on her impossibly high black heels, Max staggered over to the door out of their hotel room. She made a mental resolve to head straight over to Terry's apartment and fill him in on all of the many dirty details.

It was only then that she recalled she had no money. No money meant no way home.

She had only brought a fifty with her, thinking that she wouldn't be doing much drinking. However, that proved to be wrong and left her stranded without any cash to spare.

Biting her lip, she glanced surreptitiously over at the sleeping figure, then smoothly pulled his wallet out of his pocket. She only removed one single, one hundred dollar bill. That would be more than enough to get her on her way- at least, for now. Plus, he'd still have eleven hundred dollars left to spare, so it was like she wasn't doing anything _too_ bad.

Max turned back to the hotel room door, pocketing the money for her own and throwing her purse over her shoulder. She quickly ran her fingers through her hair, praying that she didn't look like a total train wreck.

"Max?"

_It started off, "Hey, cutie, where ya from?"_

_And then it turned into, "Oh, no. What've I done?"_

_I don't even know my last name._

She spun around, and did a double-take. Her unnamed husband had woken up, and turned around into a sitting position on the bed. She felt her stomach dip a little more when she actually _recognized_ the jackass that was her husband.

Terry. Terry McGinnis.

Terry McGinnis was in the bed. She slept with Terry McGinnis last night. She MARRIED Terry McGinnis last night.

Holy shit. She married her best friend.

_By accident._

"_Oh_."

4

I KNOW. I'M EVIL.

Sorry I didn't warn you ahead of time. But when I downloaded that song, and inspiration hit, I _knew _I had to post this. I know I technically lied to you, but I _had_ to. This was too good to pass up. XD Think of it as my May Fools Day (who needs April Fools Day anymore? May Fools Day makes April Fools Day look like a tool).

If it makes you feel better, I'm going to post this on _In Between the Lines_ in a few days (By the way, this'll be my tenth one, so yay for songfics and Terry and Max!). I just wanna get everyone's reactions first before I put this up there. I know I'll be getting several mixed reactions from everybody…

I love you guys?


	10. Just Keep On Falling

I wasn't totally expecting using this song. This one is different from the rest of my usual stuff, but mostly because the song I chose is different from my usual stuff.

I fell in love with this song after falling in love with their other song ("Paralyzer"). This is the first time I'm going to openly advertise to DOWNLOAD this song. Please. It's depressing and enlightening, all at the same time.

Also, despite this songfic, I don't actually think Max should/would ever become Batgirl. Oracle's probably the closest she'd ever come. But this was the only way this song would ever fit, so I adapted. You'll most likely never see me write a Batgirl!Max fic, though. I'm not sure I'd be very good at it, anyway.

#3#

**Title:**

**Rating:** T.

**Couple:** Max/Terry

**Song and Band:** "Falling On" by Finger Eleven

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the song/band, and I most definitely don't own Batman Beyond.

4

Max grunted in pain as she pulled her body up to the metal bar she was hanging on to finish her tenth and final set of ten pull-ups. Her biceps and triceps felt as though they were aflame. She barely had the spare energy to lower herself and let her body collapse to the ground in a messy heap.

"You finish your pull-ups yet?" Terry asked from across the room, where he had been set up in front of the colossal Batcomputer for the past hour.

Max grunted again in response, letting her arms rest over her head while she lay on her back. When she finally managed to work up the extra energy, she gingerly peeled off her extra-large, green GCU Wrestling t-shirt. That left her in a black sports bra and a pair of matching green GCU Wrestling shorts.

"Good God," Max groaned, "I'm in pain. So much pain…"

_Well, you_

_Feel so close to some resolve_

_You write the words that you're writing for_

_But your courage gets dissolved_

_Into what, I don't know…_

"Stop whining," Terry said, barely glancing over at Max. He continued to type away at the computer, no doubt double-checking to make sure there were no break-ins or muggings or anything else illegal going on in the outside world. "You've got another hundred crunches left to go."

Max groaned yet again, bringing her knees up to her chest and clutching her legs with her battered arms. "Why do you insist on trying to kill me?" she asked him weakly, staring up at the stalactites that littered the ceiling above her.

"Because I respect you and know that you can do this," he informed her sternly, "Unlike Wayne, who neither respects you nor believe that you will be able to last a week as Batgirl."

Shaking her head, Max banged the back of her head against the hard cement underneath her a few times. "I hate you," she told him. "Did you know that, you reverse-psycho-analyzing son of a bitch?"

"And I know you only say that because you respect me, too."

_When you feel that way again_

_You have to stop your thinking_

_Think of what you're here for_

_Let the rest of your feelings go…_

Max punched the punching bag one, two, three more times before spinning to execute a perfect roundhouse kick. She continued to beat the bag mercilessly until she could no longer feel any of her limbs.

She finally fell against the punching bag, holding it to her stomach and letting her head rest against the cheap leather fabric. She slid down the punching bag, landing on hard on her ass and not actually caring. It wasn't like could she actually feel her lower half, anyway.

"I'm in excruciating pain in the majority of my limbs, the ones that _aren't_ in excruciating pain I can't feel, and I just want to give up," Max thought aloud to herself, letting her back fall against the squishy blue pleather crap that covered the floor of the old school weight room.

"And the irony?" she continued on. "I have absolutely no doubts that I _will_ become the next Batgirl, the old man and McGinnis be damned."

She glanced over at the punching bag with a well-placed glare. "Of course, I'll probably die first."

_You've got to find your balance_

_You've got to realize_

_You've got to try to find what's right before you eyes, oh,_

_And if you've find you've fallen_

_And all your grace is gone_

_Just scream for me_

_And I'll be what you're fallin' on_

_Oh…_

That perfect roundhouse kick? Yeah, Max was finding good use of it. In only an hour and a half, she had made use of the particular move about twelve times. Of course, it hadn't gotten old yet, but she had a feeling that the losers she was beating up might have had a problem with her repetition.

"You okay?" Batman asked from behind her. She didn't bother turning around to check that he was okay, too; it was Terry. He was always okay.

What she wasn't ready for was a second (fifth, to be technical- counting the three Terry was currently taking on) mugger with a broken lead pipe to come up behind her and to deliver a pretty brutal blow to the back of her mask-clad head.

"Batgirl!"

_Well, you_

_Feel so close to some resolve_

_You say the things that you're standing for_

_But don't let your courage get dissolved_

'_Cuz it's then the fear grows_

Max rubbed a tender spot on the back of her head as everything slowly came into view. She was lying on the medbay in the Batcave. The worst part was that she had no one to blame but herself. If she hadn't been so blind and stupid, she would've noticed the dreg coming up behind her.

"I know you're awake, and I know you're beating yourself up," Terry said from some deep recess in the cave. "You didn't see the jackass. It's not your fault he cold-cocked you without a second thought."

Gently pushing herself up on her elbows, Max shook her head. "I should've been paying attention. I should've kept an eye on the actual number of muggers we were taking on."

"Hey, if you're gonna say that, you'll have to blame me, too. I didn't really check out how many of them there were ahead of time, either."

Max snorted and swung her legs over the side of the medbay, so she was in a sitting position on the mock bed. "You may not have counted, but you and Wayne never would've let yourselves get knocked out by some low-life."

Terry walked over to her with a wry smile. "While that's true, it doesn't mean I haven't made mistakes before. Like just a year ago when I let Matt get kidnapped by Crazy Stalker Guy."

"He was Crazy Stalker Guy!" Max defended him. "He killed a dangerous black panther with_ his bare hands_! I just got knocked out by some loser who was trying to gang rape a little old lady!"

_You've got to find your balance_

_You've got to realize_

_You've got to try to find what's right before your eyes, oh,_

_And if you've find you've fallen,_

_And all your grace is gone_

_Just scream for me_

_And I'll be what you're falling on._

_Oh…_

In a true feat of irony, Max found herself in a fight with Ten from the Royal Flush Gang on top of the roof of an ancient jewelry exhibit that was being held at the Gotham City Museum of Fine Arts. Oh, not _Terry's_ Ten (Melanie was apparently still staying on the good side and not stealing anymore), but the fact that she was fighting with the replacement at all was particularly amusing.

"Doesn't it bother you that you're ripping off someone else's look?" Max taunted, blocking several punches and kicks as she did. "And, I mean, let's face it. Melanie Walker filled out that costume a lot better than you scrawny body ever could."

Max made grimaced sympathetically behind her mask and delivered nice uppercut to the other girl's jaw. "Sorry to break it to you, girl, but you get any skinnier and you have the option of replacing Jack instead of Ten."

"Shut up, you bitch!" Fake Ten shouted. She lunged for Max, who easily dodged her. However, what she didn't notice was that she had been standing dangerously close to the ledge of the building. When she dodged Fake Ten, she lost her balance and tripped over the ledge, causing her to plummet off of the fifteen-story building.

_Just give me the word and I'll be there_

_Just give me the words that I'm living for_

_Just tell me the things you might have felt before_

_It's do or die- this either or_

For five terrifying seconds, Max's mind went blank. She couldn't think of anything she had learned from Terry or Wayne. She couldn't remember how to use the suit, or what to when freefalling several dozen stories- nothing.

But then the ever-faithful fight-or-flight instinct kicked in and she spun around, releasing a grapple from her wrist. It never actually caught on the thick, white cement that covered the museum. Instead, Max was suddenly jerked from her fall by another person. Batman had looped an arm around her waist and yanked her against his chest.

"What the hell?"

_Just give me the word and I'll be there_

_Just give me the word and I'll be there_

"For Chrissake's, Batman!" she shouted, turning on Terry once he had released her. They had landed on a building roof a few blocks away after she tried to get out of tight grip. "I was doing just fine on my own! I had the grapple out and everything!"

Batman looked around him in shock, like maybe he was stuck in a really bizarre and unexplainable crappy dream. "I'm sorry. I'm confused," he said, rubbing his temples tiredly. "Didn't I just save your life?"

"You may have saved my life, but I just as easily could've done it without your help!" Max snapped back. "If you don't let me do this on my own, I'm never going to be able to survive out here when I'm alone and you can't stop me from falling!"

"I'm your best friend!" Terry shouted back defensively. "I'm _supposed_ to stop you from falling!"

_You've got to find your balance_

_You have to realize_

_You've got to try to find what's right before your eyes,_

"Stop trying to protect me!" Max told him frustratingly, throwing her hands up in the air and stepping so close they were toe-to-toe. "If I can't do this on my own, I don't deserve to wear this stupid mask! I don't deserve to be Batgirl!"

"Yeah, well, did you ever consider that maybe _I_ didn't want you to be Batgirl?!" Terry finally erupted, glaring at his best friend. Although, after this particular revelation, it would most likely be wiser to say "ex-best friend."

Max stared up at him, her mouth agape. Terry immediately knew what he had said wrong, and shut his eyes. "Ma- Batgirl- I didn't mean it-"

"Oh, I know what you meant!" Max yelled at him, backing away from him. "I just can't believe I ever thought I could actually work with you!"

_Oh,_

_And if you've find you've fallen_

_And all your grace is gone_

_Just scream for me_

_And I'll be what you're falling on._

A week had passed, and Max hadn't spoken a word to Terry. She was still Batgirl. She just didn't speak to Batman. Instead, she went through Wayne if she had anything important to relay.

And, once more, she was battling on top of a rooftop. This time it was some skanky chick who believed herself to be the next Catwoman. Yeah, Max had met the original at a local benefit to save endangered wild cats that the Wayne Company was holding (three guess as to why he chose to hold _that_ benefit). The _real_ Catwoman would never wear something as trashy as a black, leather, belly-bearing halter with matching ripped pants.

"You know, I've had to put up with _three_ of you skank-cats in the passed five days," Max growled, dodging the masked woman's vicious four-inch spiked heel. "It's occurred to me. I think you gals need to be _fixed_."

Max was feeling a definite sense of déjà vu when Miss Skanky Kitty decided to try and deliver a fan kick to her chest. Max was just barely able to dodge the blow, but she wasn't able to miss the skank's cat, who had managed to slip behind her legs.

Because she never saw that friggin' cat, Max tripped over both it _and_ the building's ledge. This caused her to, once again, plummet off of the building and into oblivion.

Max was about to send a grapple into the wall so she could easily save herself, but an evil little voice in the back of her head told her to continue to fall a few seconds longer, just to be sure…

And she did. She waited one, two, three, four, five… seconds. On the fifth second, she twisted her body to send out the grapple-

_You've got to find your balance_

_You've got to realize_

_You've got to try to find what's right before your eyes, oh,_

And was plucked out of the air by another person. Batman, to be precise. Max was barely able to contain her anger long enough for him to land them on a safe spot on another building a few places down.

"You supreme jackass," she announced as soon as he let her go. "I was going to save myself, but I waited, to make sure you weren't watching me. _And you were watching me_."

"Calm down," he told her. "I'm supposed to protect you."

"Surprise!" Max shouted. "I don't need you to constantly protect me!"

Terry snorted in disbelief. "I figured that much out from the last conversation," he shot back, "It's a shame you weren't listening to what I had to say."

_And if you've find you've fallen_

_And all your grace is gone_

_Just scream for me_

_And I'll be what you're falling on,_

_Oh._

Max shook her head. "Do I even want to know what you're talking about?" she asked disgustedly. She really couldn't believe the nerve Terry had. Didn't he get that she would never be able to make it as Batgirl if he continued to undermine her at every turn?

Finally, Terry snapped. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. But instead of shaking her like Max had expected him to, he chose to press his mouth against hers, hard and forcefully. The kiss was raw and desperate and needy, and Max wasn't prepared for such an emotional tailspin.

Terry broke away from the kiss and, breathing hard, told her, "Max, you're my best friend. I don't give a damn if you don't want me to; I intend on catching you every time you fall."

4

Blecch. I absolutely ADORE this song, but the actual story… Eh. I'm kinda disappointed.

But, then again, I've been disappointed with my stuff and you guys have immediately rushed to assure me that it was kick ass. Which is probably why I still write these songfics. 'Cuz I love you guys. :)

**NOTE:** There will be a sequel to "What's My Last Name Again?". I know you guys have been asking. **Kyoko** gave me some helpful advice as far as songs go, and I think I've found a good one myself, but I'm afraid it's eerily similar to this song. Which bothers me.

So, I figure, I love you guys so much: Wanna lend a girl a hand and throw out a few _**suitable **_songs? I don't do rap or scream-o, and it'd be great if the lyrics somehow tied in with making some life-altering decision or change or… something. You guys understand.

-Thanks.


	11. This Secret Isn't So Little Anymore

This would be the long-awaited sequel to _Last Night_. I'm still not totally sure I love how this song fits in, but it's the closest I've come to finding something that works.

Oh, and thanks for all of your suggestions! They're all great songs, so don't be surprised if I end up using one (or more) of them! :)

I have another song in the works, so I should post another shortly after this one, or vice versa, depending on how my muse chooses to operate.

#3#

**Title:**

**Rating:** T.

**Couple:** Max/Terry

**Song and Band:** "Dirty Little Secret" by Pillar

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the song/band, and I most definitely don't own Batman Beyond.

4

"And that is why we believe this merger we've made with your company will be so essential to the working man. Synthodrones are the new wave in A.I. technology, and we are ecstatic to have this chance to work with the Wayne-Powers Company."

Max was barely paying attention to the nerdy, if somewhat cute, presenter. He was representing one of Gotham's biggest up-and-coming synthodrone company, and Wayne-Powers had just signed off on a deal with them. Even though Max was Wayne-Powers' Head of Technology Resources, she was in a completely other world.

Staring down at the blank pieces of paper like they held the key to life and kept fidgeting, mostly with her hands. Specifically, she kept nervously rubbing her left ring finger.

_Why can't we try and understand_

_All these images are out of hand?_

_And intimate by every man_

_That thinks he's on his own_

After _several_ hours of serious talking, Max and Terry decided it was best to pretend as though the whole, drunken marriage has never actually happened. They were going to go on with their lives until their lawyers had the marriage successfully annulled and sealed.

Max just wanted everything to go back to normal, but if the past two weeks had been any indication, that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

Standing up abruptly, Max straightened her grey business skirt and checked that her white blouse was firmly tucked in to the waistband of the skirt. Trying to gather her thoughts 

and recall what this meeting had been about, she said, "And Wayne-Powers is happy to welcome you."

She shook hands with all of the businessmen, and as soon as the ceiling-high, heavy oak doors were firmly shut behind them, Max went back to twisting her fingers around her left ring finger. As she did, still staring out at the door, her personal secretary and close friend burst through the door, grinning like a maniac.

"Holy shit," she said in an exaggerated half-whisper. "Did you hear?!"

Max stopped twisting her fingers long enough to peer down curiously at the 5'2 peroxide blonde bombshell. She was definitely one of Wayne-Powers'… _quirkier_ secretaries, but Gina was 100-percent original.

At the moment, Gina's baby-blue eyes were widened comically as she said, "Terry got married!"

_And all this time_

_We've been heading nowhere really fast_

_Never knowing without the past_

_That make us feel alone_

If Max had been drinking something, she probably would have spit it all out, right out of a bad TV show. Instead, she managed to control her composure, only straightening up her posture and narrowing her eyes slightly. "And just where did you hear that piece of gossip, Gina?" she asked, clearing her throat when her voice broke on the word _where_.

"Well, there have been a few whispers 'round the water cooler 'bout Mr. McGinnis meeting a hottie at the bar and hooking up with her," Gina said, biting her lip in concentration. "But _I _have the _real_ scoop. See, my best receptionist friend has a sister who's a receptionist at a high-profile law firm and just so happens to be sleeping with one of Gotham's most famous lawyers- ya' know who I'm talking about- the same one Mr. McGinnis has on permanent retainer. So, he lets it slip after sex one night- 'cuz ya' know men- they always drop the walls and get chatty after sex- and he mentions that Terry accidentally tied the knot, and wants it all to go away. _Fast_."

Max mustered up a rather convincing smile and shook her head. "Oh, Gina," she said, turning around to her stack of papers and the folders containing copies of the contract and specs of the latest synthodrones Wayne-Powers would be receiving. "I really doubt that Terry would ever have done something as irrational as getting married in Vegas."

"Well, _duh_," Gina said, walking over to the table and helping her collect the manila folders and stack them together into a neat pile. "He wouldn't get married in Vegas. Atlantic City is much closer to Gotham than _Las Vegas_."

_But now that all the covers blown_

_You can see how much you've thrown_

_Out the door to wake before _

_You try and let this go_

Max walked down the long, marble floor hallway, her stiletto heels click-clacking. Working at the Wayne-Powers Company had taught her how to maintain perfect composure, even though she felt like everything was falling apart around her.

She kept on walking, bursting through Terry's office doors without a second thought. Luckily for him, he was alone in his office, so no one was there to hear her announce, "Ter, we're screwed. It's already getting around that you accidentally got married, and it's only a matter of time until they figure out who the other person is. Was. Shit. Whatever."

Max collapsed into the nearest chair and rested her head in her hands. Terry got up from behind his desk and said, "How could they already have figured this shit out?"

"Oh, some secretary is sleeping with your- our- lawyer. And this same idiot lawyer also accidentally dropped the bomb on you tying the knot," she said, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "What are we going to do, Ter?"

_You've got this dirty little secret_

_You're tryin' hard to keep it_

_Out of sight, out of mind_

_But you can't hide_

_This dirty little secret_

_You're tryin' hard to keep it_

_Out of sight, out of mind_

_But you can't hide_

Terry squatted down in front of her, pulling her hands away from her face. Looking her in the eye, he replied, "No one's going to believe those rumors, especially if they still don't know who I'm married to. Besides, you have to remember Wayne. He was a notorious playboy, and inspired quite a few rumors. It's weird, but his crappy reputation is probably what's going to help me distract everyone long enough that we can end this neatly and quietly."

"Is that possible?" she asked, looking down. He was still holding her hands in his own. Dark mocha was cradled in translucent cream. "We got drunk and got _married_. And we're best friends. How will this _ever_ end neatly?"

Terry smiled back at her, but she recognized the slightest trace of bitterness in his grin. "As you just said, I'm your best friend," he replied. "That means I'll make sure this ends neatly, no matter what."

_When will you see_

_That the end will come eventually?_

_But you can't just let it be_

_You have to take control_

It was a week later, and Max wasn't feeling any better about herself. If anything, she felt like she had been stuck in a permanent state of 'hung over,' since she and Terry had left the hotel weeks ago.

Her nose was buried in another set of files, this one authorizing some big oil tycoon client. Before she walked into the room where the meeting was to be held, she stopped to quickly jot down some notes on their most recent contract. As she did, she could hear muffled voices coming from inside the room.

"…and he keeps denying it, but I don't know how long McGinnis will be able to keep this shit up. I mean, people talk, and he won't be able to keep this lie going forever."

Max's breath caught in her throat, and she leaned up against the wall for support. She pressed her ear closer to the doorway to try and hear more of the conversation.

"Oh, I dunno, Tom. Maybe it is just a rumor. He wouldn't do something that dumb. Besides, even if he did, she's probably just another airheaded supermodel. Look at Wayne. I really doubt the apple falls that far from the tree in this case."

"That's just it! It doesn't make any sense. If he hooked up with a random supermodel, it's no big deal. Everyone would be expecting that, and after the first few days, we'd all forget about. That's why I think he _didn't_ hook up with some random airhead. Whoever this girl is that he got married to, I think he already knows her. That's why he's trying so hard to protect, not his own ass, but hers."

"…That's just too crazy, Tom. Besides, you know Gibson will fry our asses for speaking ill of her best friend."

_And grab a hold_

_Of the one thing that you can't let go_

_It doesn't matter what you know_

_You're stuck inside this hole_

Yet again, Max found herself back in Terry's office. She had all but run the entire way there, scaring a few temps and secretaries in her haste. She pushed the heavy double-doors open, the loud _bang_ the doors made as they collided with the walls somewhat comforting.

"I can't do this," she announced. Once more, there was no one else in Terry's office, so she was free to slam the double-doors shut and spin back on her heel to face her best friend. "Everyone knows. They all know you got hitched, even though you're denying it to everyone. I have a feeling that your insistent denying is probably just making the rumor worse."

Just like the week before, Terry got up from behind his desk and walked over to his best and most likely only friend as she slumped in the same leather seat. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, dropping down to one knee so they could be eye-to-eye.

"I don't know, Ter," she replied. She was being completely honest, too. She didn't want to ruin his reputation, and she didn't want to ruin hers, either. And both their reputations would be completely ruined the second she was revealed as he accidental bride. "I just don't think this'll ever end neatly. And even if it does, it sure as hell won't end fast enough."

_You've got this dirty little secret_

_You're tryin' hard to keep it_

_Out of sight, out of mind_

_But you can't hide_

_This dirty little secret_

_You're tryin' hard to keep it_

_Out of sight, out of mind_

_But you can't hide_

"Well, there _is_ always one solution," Terry said, momentarily breaking eye contact. Shifting his weight, he slipped his hand into his right jacket pocket and pulled something out of it. "But I doubt you'll want to consider it."

Max snorted softly, letting her head drop down to stare sullenly at her knees. "Even if I don't want to, I think I have to," she replied. "I don't think I have another option."

"True," he said, smiling wryly. "But I still think you should take a couple of days to consider this option, just to be on the safe side."

Tipping her head back to look at Terry with questioning eyes, she watched as he reached over and gripped her hand tightly and comfortingly. When he let go, she realized he had pressed something into her palm. Pulling back her hand, she released her grip and stared down at the object, a small smile curving onto her face.

"I promise I'll wait three days, minimum," she said, her voice barely a half-whisper as she stood up from her seat and walked out of the room.

_You've got this dirty little secret_

_You're tryin' hard to keep it_

_Out of sight, out of mind_

_But you can't hide_

_This dirty little secret_

_You're tryin' hard to keep it_

_Out of sight, out of mind_

_But you can't hide_

_"The official report is that Mr. Terry McGinnis, the current CFO and head director of the Wayne-Powers Company, eloped with his high school friend Head of Technologies, Ms. Maxine Gibson, almost a month and a half ago. They decided to reveal their marriage after several rumors began circulating that Mr. McGinnis had gotten drunk and accidentally married. Wayne-Powers' board of CEOs, most specifically Paxton Powers, have not yet released their official opinion on the matter, but-"_

Max rolled her eyes and angrily punched the OFF button on the small, black remote, effectively cutting off the reporter's speech. "Like Powers has anything positive to say about you getting married to me," she said, grumbling mostly to herself as she turned to her best friend… er, husband.

It was going to take her a while to get used to thinking of him as that.

"I don't give a rat's ass about that dreg," Terry responded, grinning as he grabbed her hand and smoothly dragged her over to lean against his desk next to him. "I just want to make sure you're okay with this."

"I thought we established I was?" she asked, purposely putting a teasing lilt to the tone of her voice. Lifting up her hand, she watched as the sparkly rock glinted in the fading sun that slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows in Terry's apartment. "Besides, like I was really going to let this puppy slip through my fingers."

Terry was silent for several seconds, studying her intently. Finally, narrowing his eyes, he asked, "Do I know you?"

_You've got this dirty little secret_

_You're tryin' hard to keep it_

_Out of sight, out of mind_

_But you can't hide_

_This dirty little secret_

_You're tryin' hard to keep it_

_Out of sight, out of mind_

_But you can't hide_

Max laughed. "You better," she replied, "We wouldn't want to disappoint the masses by getting a divorce."

"Not so soon. We should wait a few years and try again- y'know keep 'em guessing."

"You are a sick bastard, you know that, Mr. McGinnis?"

"Yes, I am aware of this, Mrs. McGinnis."

4



I will post this immediately, mostly because I don't want to see you guys burning effigies of me and posting them on YouTube. Personally, I like the ending. I can see this happening, I think. Though part of me wants to write a drabble of Mary freaking out because, "My baby didn't invite me to his own wedding?!"

She'd get over it eventually, but she's such a mom that we know she'd blow a gasket. Poor thing.

Hope you guys enjoyed Part 2!


	12. What Lips Do Best

I know, I know, I'm freakin' evil for leaving you BB guys high and dry for so long… and I really am sorry. But it wasn't until I finally was listening to this song on my iPod that I was finally hit with such a burst of inspiration on this song that I had to write it out.

I hope to God that this makes it up for you guys… :)

#3#

**Title:**

**Rating:** T.

**Couple:** Terry/Max. Duh.

**Song and Band:** "The Kiss" by Karmina.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own the TV show, characters, song, or band, and whatever else you might possibly wanna accuse me of stealing. ;)

$4$

Max sometimes hated the radio. Usually, her favorite old 90s and 2000s music radio station had some pretty rockin' tunes- her all-time favorite was when they played that one really sad Katy Perry song- but then there were times when a song would come on at exactly the wrong time, and she would want to cry. Or throw the beat-up hand-me-down radio. Or both.

Like right now, for instance.

The music was soft, with a familiar beat that she didn't recognize but didn't dislike, either. She tried not to listen to the lyrics as the soothing, feminine voice floated through the speakers.

The singer barely offered any distraction, other than to taunt her as she shamelessly ogled her best friend.

_I know we don't belong  
__Everyone says it's wrong  
__We come from different ways  
__So I tried to erase everything that I felt  
__That I felt_

It wasn't totally her fault, she reasoned, as the tempo picked up on the song and she resisted the urge to simultaneously sing along or scream. _He _was the one wearing that stupid tux that made him look so damned smokin'. It wasn't fair, either. _He_ was her best friend, which meant it was completely and 100-percent wrong of her to keep fantasizing about tackling him to the ground and tearing off that friggin' tux. With her teeth.

Damn, she needed help. Or maybe just a cold shower.

Regardless, her best friend _was_ standing in her room, modeling the tux Mr. Wayne had specially ordered for him, and this song _was_ giving her all the wrong ideas.

_Then you kiss me and suddenly I don't care anymore  
__Something in me tells me you're the one I'm lookin' for  
__Then you kiss me and suddenly I don't care anymore  
__Something in me tells me you're the one I'm lookin' for  
__From the kiss  
__From the kiss_

"… and he keeps insisting that I bring a date, because it's some kind of whack-job tradition that I need to keep up as one of Wayne's assistants…"

Max realized suddenly that she hadn't been paying attention to a word that was coming out of his mouth this entire time, too enraptured with the way his broad shoulders filled out his suit. She knew she was supposed to feel guilty, but couldn't work up the power to do so.

"…and my response is, 'Who cares who I'm taking with me?' I mean, so long as I can get in and out of this damn penguin costume and into the Batsuit if something does happen, what does it matter?" Terry turned toward her, clearly expecting a response of some sort.

She nodded vaguely, and shrugged. She was sitting on her bed, leaning back against her many pillows, wearing only a black camisole and green and gold Hamilton Hill High Lax shorts. She needed to get up and move, because if she continued to sit there and stare at her best friend, he was eventually going to notice.

_My heart is getting loud  
__I'm tryin' to keep it down  
__I wish the world could hear  
__But I can't help but fear that you'll take me away  
__You away_

She stood up, watching him closely as he turned back to the mirror, still fighting with the black bowtie that had come with the suit. She smiled, temporarily forgetting her less-than-pure thoughts to laugh at him. He could fly the Batjet, defeat some of the most notorious bad guys in gotham, and (mostly) keep up with his grades as a senior, but he couldn't tie a simple bowtie?

He really was useless sometimes.

It was a good thing he was so damn hot.

Max walked up behind him, her smile broadening as she heard his muttered obscenities as he fought with the belligerent tie. Smacking his hands away, she stood on her toes and unknotted his mess. "It senses your fear," she whispered in his ear, eyes sparkling with mischief. She took the two ends of the bowtie and, with a few twists, had it pulled into a neat bow in less than a minute.

_Then you kiss me and suddenly I don't care anymore  
__Something in me tells me you're the one I'm lookin' for  
__Then you kiss me and suddenly I don't care anymore  
__Something in me tells me you're the one I'm lookin' for  
__From the kiss  
__From the kiss_

"How the hell did you learn how to do this?" he asked, looking at her through the reflection in the mirror. She prayed that she wasn't imagining the undercurrent of jealousy in his voice, or the way his shoulders tightened- almost imperceptibly, but enough for her take notice as she still had her arms wrapped around him.

"My dad," she replied, keeping her voice light and innocent. "He was almost as useless as you when it came to tying these things."

Terry chuckled, and turned around, staring down at her. It really wasn't fair how much taller he was than her, and how much he loved to use it to his advantage. Even still, she didn't drop her arms from around him, letting them settle comfortably on his shoulders.

"What was that, Gibson?" he asked, goading her with a dangerous smile and easy ice blue eyes.

It wasn't all that hard to forget everything- especially unimportant things like homework, the day's vid-events, and current conversations- when she was staring into those eyes. She briefly wondered if he felt the same way when she noticed his smile was fading and something was clouding those baby blues to a deliciously darker color.

_Palm to palm  
__Lips do what hands do  
__They pray  
__Is it a sin to do what we want to?  
__Don't care where we've been  
__Give me my sin again_

At some point, she had stopped smiling as well, and it finally hit her that she was standing within inches of her extremely good looking best friend, who was currently staring down at her like he might be reconsidering the 'best friend' title, too.

It was now or never, she reasoned. She could either stay on the safe track, and stay as a best friend, and stay home at night fantasizing, or be proactive. Finally. She just needed to work up the courage, and…

"Screw it," she mumbled, tugging his shoulders towards her and closing the distance between their mouths. His hands automatically dropped to her hips, pulling her towards him so she was flush against his body.

And thank God she finally decided to be proactive. Their mouths weren't even open yet, and this had already blown every kiss she'd ever had out of the water. He was just forceful enough, taking control over the kiss and leaving her breathless and wanting more. Plus, with the way his hands were sliding up her cami, tracing the lines of her back and sending pleasant shivers down her spine, she was already close to losing it. And they were only kissing.

_Then you kiss me and suddenly I don't care anymore  
__Something in me tells me you're the one I'm lookin' for  
__Then you kiss me and suddenly I don't care anymore  
__Something in me tells me you're the one I'm lookin' for  
__From the kiss  
__From the kiss_

When breathing eventually became a concern, they broke away, and Max immediately regretted the loss of warmth. Her breathing was ragged, but his wasn't all that even, either, and she had to admit she liked the hazy look in his eyes as he watched her. She was the cause of that look, and it was a pretty heady feeling.

"Come to this thing with me?" he asked, his voice husky and eliciting more involuntary shivers.

Max smiled, exhaling deeply as she snuggled a little further into his arms. She noticed he hadn't removed his hands from under her cami, but was actually wandering north, towards her bra. "I don't know," she mumbled, "I don't think I've got anything to wear…"

Terry's eyes narrowed and he growled impatiently, making her smirk. "You can come wearing this, for all I care."

She leaned closer, letting her eyes drift to his mouth. "I guess I can go…" she whispered, not quite kissing him.

"Damn right you are," he replied, dragging her mouth towards him once again and letting out another impatient noise.

Wrapping her arms tighter around him, Max had to admit she had one awesome best friend.

$4$

It is one o'clock in the morning right now, and I've finished this oneshot in about an hour and a half, which isn't all that impressive because this isn't all that long.

But, despite the time, I am posting this _right now_ because I know how long you guys have waited for this. And how much you hate me because of it.

I wanted to do more with this oneshot, like have a series of kiss-scenes with Max and Terry, but this song is regrettably short and by the time I was halfway through the first scene, I realized it would just be easiest for me to stretch it out to the entirety of the song.

…So… Does this make up for my (ridiculously long) absence? :)


	13. Breaking Me With Your Smile

I don't have much to say other than… um, hi? Sorry that I keep making you guys forget about me. :(

Plus side, I think this is a really good song. Even if it's from this slightly bad indie movie, _Undiscovered_. But, it features a _really_ hot guy (who can sing!!!) and Ashlee Simpson trying to not be an idiot. XD

#3#

**Title:**

**Rating:** T.

**Couple:** Max/Terry.

**Song and Singer:** "Half Lit" by Steven Strait.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own song, singer, characters, TV rights, or any of that stupid bullshit and I hate having to repeat it.

$4$

_If I saw you here tonight  
__In half-lit melancholy light  
__I got you here under my skin  
__I'm trying to make you laugh again_

Her eyes slipped close, smiling as she listened to the dulcet tones slip from the speakers. She had never heard this song until just now, and she felt almost immediately drawn to it. The man was so sad and remorseful, and such a smooth, deep voice.

It fit her mood to a T.

She took a sip from her glass of merlot, and didn't stop drinking until the glass was half empty. She drummed her nails on the table, fake tips filed down perfectly into round, smooth ends, and lacquered in a deep, blood red that was only a shade or darker than the wine in her glass.

Her hair was longer now, black with dark brown highlights and layered around her chin. Her lips were coated in lipstick the same shade as her nails, and the grey smoky eyeshadow and black liner and mascara offset the dark color on her lips.

She looked like a completely different woman. In the black and grey pinstriped skirt and suit, freshly pressed white button-down and black patent leather stilettos, she _was_ a different woman.

So was it her fault if she hated the woman she'd become?

_When I open up my eyes I wanna see your face  
__When you come here, could you stay with me a while  
__And gently break me with your smile?_

He sat down at the small table for two, dressed impeccably as always in a starched dark grey business suit, pale blue shirt, and navy tie. When he smiled, it almost made up for the fact that she hadn't had a good day in a month, she hated her job, and she hadn't spoken to anyone in her family in over two years.

But his smile didn't, so she was forced to smile back tightly, and empty the rest of her glass. She snapped her fingers and almost immediately a waiter was at her side, pouring her another glass of merlot. In the dark, dim lights of the restaurant, he couldn't see that she was actually faking her smile, which was why she liked the restaurant so much. It was classy, yet helped her keep up one of the many façades she had running.

"So how was your day at work?" he asked, ever the affable fiancé. Which he was. As of 24 hours ago, to be specific.

She kept up her strained smile, taking another hearty sip from her glass, and said, "It was fine, thank you. How was yours?"

His grin was completely genuinely. It was a damned shame hers wasn't even close.

"It was great."

_You know I need you like a child needs the stars  
__So tell me, can you hear my heart?_

She tossed over in bed, eyes wide open. From her side of the bed, she could see out into the streets, lights twinkling bright under the cover of a black sky. She sat up in bed, careful not to disturb her fiancé as she slipped out from under the covers. She pulled one of his discarded shirts from off the chair, wrapping it around her naked form as she stepped out into soft glow from the city lights.

She used to love this city. This used to be _her_ city. When did it all go so horribly wrong?

She ran her hands through her hair, tugging on the longer locks. She felt like chopping off all her hair again and dying it. It didn't feel natural. Her _life_ didn't feel natural.

She so badly wanted out, but she couldn't. This was her life- she had no where else to go.

Leaning her forehead against the cool glass, she sighed, shutting her eyes. She could still hear the music floating through her ears, the voice haunting her with promises unfulfilled.

For a song that she had never heard until that night, it was almost ridiculous how easily it was sticking with her.

And how badly it made her want to get the hell away.

_Could you hear me one more time  
__And put your fingers on my spine?_

There had been too many restless nights. It sounded anticlimactic, but it was true. She couldn't sleep anymore, she spent more time staring out the window than she did in her own bed…

He had no idea. He slept through anything, and that included the fact that she never fell asleep and routinely got up during the night. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful or annoyed.

She wasn't sure if she cared.

When she didn't feel like staring hopelessly out the window, she would slip into the living room and either channel surf in their state-of-the-art flat screen or surf the web on her laptop. Sometimes she would do both. Anything to pass the time.

In the beginning, she slept, but woke up frequently with sweats or chills. At first, she grappled with the idea that maybe she was going through early onset menopause or something equally idiotic, but her mother was in her early sixties and she still had her period, and her grandmother was in her seventies when hers finally stopped.

So she couldn't be that lucky…

But the longer she stayed, the worse it got. First, she could get about 5 hours of sleep in, between the shivering and shaking. Then, she was down to 3, which was about when the night terrors began. Scary shit. Shapes and shadows, pulling her, grabbing her, just before something black and red swooped in with haunting white eyes…

Before she knew it, she was down from 3 to 1 good hour, and then it was nothing.

She was tired, she was more than a little rundown, but every time she was about to put her head down to sleep she was gripped with such a wave of fear that she had to open her eyes to stop the terror from plaguing her.

It was better to be awake and tired than sleeping and terrified.

That was how she saw it, anyway.

_When I open up my eyes I wanna see your face  
__When you come here, could you stay with me a while  
__And gently break me with your smile?_

She walked out.

She was at work, at the biannual, most-important-meeting-of-the-year meeting, where careers were made and broken, and jobs were lost just as fast. And… she walked out. She excused herself, pretending to go to the bathroom or… something, and she walked out. And kept on walking, all the way through the door, down the hallway, down the stairs, out the lobby, and into the breathtakingly fresh air.

She at least had the presence of mind to grab her purse as she walked out, which meant she had her keys to the house and car, not to mention her phone.

If she ran back in the building, sprinted up the stairs and booked it to the office room, she could easily make it back without anyone thinking twice.

But she didn't want to. She didn't _want_ to go back to her 'life.' Even if she had no where to go. Even if she had to start all over.

Again.

_You know I need you like a child needs the stars  
__So tell me, can you hear my heart?_

It took thirty minutes to pack up everything she needed. There wasn't much in the house that she wanted. They were all memories, and they were nothing she wanted to remember.

She didn't want to think about it, but there _was_ another option. Until today, she refused to consider it. It was too… personal.

But now… there was no fear. She wasn't _afraid_ of this option anymore. It was her best option. She had to.

One… Two… Three rings. That was how long it took before he picked up.

Maxine Gibson sighed, eyes shutting as a tear slipped down her cheek.

"Hullo?"

"It's me," she whispered. "Can I come home?"

"Where are you? I'll be there in a half-hour."

She couldn't stop the smiling from forming on her face. It was a real smile. She hadn't smiled for real in years.

God, she missed him.

"Don't worry- I'll come to you."

"The hell you will- where are you, Max?"

She was grinning now, damn him.

"You have a pen and paper, Ter? I'm not repeating myself."

Christ. She missed the bastard.

_And when you come here, could you stay with me a while  
__And gently break me with your smile?_

$4$

Interesting ending, angsty story, but I like it. The song is painfully short, so I had to stretch out the refrain even longer or I would have about 800 words and a not-finished story. And I'd be sad. XD

Anyway, sorry for taking so long- I hope you guys liked it!


	14. Moving Slow But Falling Fast

This is another undeniable rip-off from my _Don't Stop the Music_ iPod challenge (Number 2, if I'm not mistaken), which is really the whole point of the challenge so it's not like I can get mad. XD But, that said, this was taking the main idea of the drabble and skewing and stretching it out beyond all belief.

To date, this is my longest oneshot for _IBtL_. And you know what? It's also the best.

Or so I believe.

#3#

**Title:**

**Pairing:** Max/Terry.

**Song and Artist:** "I Do Not Hook Up" by Kelly Clarkson.

**Rating:** T. But a heavy T, because as I continue to write these oneshots, I feel the need to make them smexier. XD

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Kelly, Terry, Max, the lyrics, the show… I don't own shit, basically.

$4$

_Oh, sweetheart, put the bottle down  
__You've got too much talent  
__I see you through those bloodshot eyes  
__There's a cure, you've found it_

Maxine Gibson pursed her full lips, coated in a glossy layer Dark Chocolate lipgloss, and smoothed her blood red pencil skirt. She was dressed to the nines, as usual, cloaked in vintage Coach cream peep-toe heels and a matching blouse with real mother of pearl buttons. Her jacket, the same deep red as her skirt, was carefully draped across her chair.

She hated dressing like this. Hated keeping her hair black. Hated the constant 'flight attendant' smile she had to maintain at all times, even when most days, she wanted to scream.

But she was doing all of this for a reason. For him. Because he couldn't do this on his own.

He couldn't do much of anything on his own.

"Alright, ladies and gentleman," she said, flight attendant smile fully in place as she stared across the long table of highly esteemed businessmen and women. "Let's get our meeting started."

_The motion sparks, you've caught that chill  
__Now don't deny it  
__But boys will be boys, oh yes, they will  
__They wanted to find it  
__Just give up the game and get into me  
__If you're lookin' for thrills than get caught in_

Three and a half hours later, she was just about ready to kill herself, but her day still wasn't over. The fun drive to Wayne Mansion.

Twenty years ago, finally being privy to the Batcave was her biggest accomplishment. Now, it just felt hollow, like a promise that never followed through.

Wayne Mansion wasn't anything but a curse, a destiny one man was forced to follow until the end because he believed there was nothing else for him.

Max believed something else entirely, but she had long since stopped trying to fight what was already a lost battle.

It was just easier to go along with it, swallow her arguments and anger just to keep him happy. As happy as he could be, in any case.

_Oh, oh, I do not hook up, up  
__I go slow  
__So if you want me, I don't come cheap  
__Keep your head in my hand, your heart on your sleeve_

Her hands tightened on the neck of the bottle, shutting her eyes to block out the emotion and the bile that threatened to rise up in her throat as she mentally calculated the number of empty glasses and bottles that littered the room.

There were four. Two bottles of vodka, a Jack Daniels and a Captain Morgan. That meant today was a bad day. A good day usually consisted of a beer or two, maybe a bottle of wine. When he broke out the Daniels, things were always bad.

People would call it addiction. Max had a different term for it. Coping Mechanism. She looked it up. He was handling his job, along with everything else, as best he could, and there were some nights (alright, all nights) that he needed alcohol to smooth out the bumps.

Further reading told her that using alcohol was actually considered a 'harmful' coping mechanism, but she preferred not to think about that.

_Oh, oh, I do not hook up, up  
__I fall deep  
_'_Cuz the more that you try, the harder I'll fight  
__To say  
__Goodnight_

Even after so many months of practice and carefully watching him like a hawk as he stumbled around, she still couldn't believe how well he held his liquor. He had probably been drinking since 5 a.m. (when his patrol 'ended,' not that ever really did), and it was nearly 1 in the afternoon, which meant about a good 8 solid hours of heavy drinking. And he wasn't even throwing up. He never threw up, which was something that used to concern her in the beginning, but now she just appreciated never having to clean up puke in addition to everything else.

It was truly bizarre, especially to a lightweight like Max who's idea of heavy drinking was two glasses of red wine in an hour. He drank so much that eventually he stopped being his typical, morose drunk self and hit a wall of cold hard sobriety. It was alarming, because she wasn't always sure when she would be dealing with Drunk Terry or Semi-Sober Terry. One second he'd be crying in his half-empty drink, the next he'd be speaking coherently and describing everything that he'd lost in heartbreaking detail.

She wasn't sure which one she hated to see more.

"Ter?"

He was standing in the doorframe, shirtless, watching silently as she cleaned up the glasses. His eyes looked blurry, but the pale blue irises and the pitch black pupils were sharp and clear.

And filled with pain.

Semi-Sober Terry.

_I can't cook, no, but I can clean  
__Up the mess she left  
__Lay your head down and fill the pieces  
__As I kiss your forehead_

He wasn't saying anything. This happened sometimes, so she was hardly unnerved. "The meeting went well," she said, trying to make conversation when they both knew there was no point. "Lucius Fox's son is doing some great things in the biorobotics industry, and we're in talks for a possible merger."

She glanced over at him and smiled civilly, inwardly wincing. There were times in the day when she really felt like her life would be so much easier if her best friend wasn't so devastatingly handsome. It made something simple like him leaning in the doorway shirtless _so_ much more complicated for her.

He clenched and unclenched his square jaw, and she tried to not get distracted as the dark stubble that coated his face caught the light. "Do you know what today is?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly from lack of use.

It took her a second, but when she finally remembered the date she shut her eyes and resisted the urge to groan. No wonder he broke out the Jack. It was April 14th.

Dana's birthday.

"Ter," she began, setting down the two empty bottles of vodka on the table. "I didn'-"

He shook his head, stopping her sentence in its tracks when she met his eyes. Whatever blurriness had been there from the alcohol seemed to have disappeared and his eyes seemed to have taken on a darker, smoldering stare that she could feel all the way down her spine.

He crossed the room in three quick steps, and before she had the time to think he had cupped her jaw and was kissing her like his life depended on it. And it was working, because she was feeling it all the way to her cramped, Coach-clad heels.

_This may not last but this is now  
__So love the one you're with  
__You wanna chase but you're chasin' your talents  
__Quick fix won't ever get you well_

She heard the clatter of glass on wood as one of the bottles tipped over when Terry backed her up against the table and the slight noise snapped her out her all too pleasant reverie.

She pressed the heels of her palms against either side of his collarbone and pressed gently. "We can't do this," she whispered, breaking away and looking at the wall across from them. Her breathing was labored, and she could feel her pulse racing. All signs pointed to bad things ahead.

"I can't…" she faltered, reluctantly sliding out of his grip so she could _think_ better. It didn't work. He was too close. She was too close to him. That was always the problem, even when he was still dating Dana, even when they were still engaged…

It just wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to feel anything. She especially wasn't supposed to feel anything when he was in this condition.

"I can't do this," she announced, scaring herself and probably him, too. "Shit, Ter, I can't… I can't- not while you're so fucked up. And you are. You really, really are. And I can't _feel_ anything when you're this…_ bad_." She backed away, close to breaking into tears as she finally turned around and booked it out of the mansion.

_Oh, oh, I do not hook up, up  
__I go slow  
__So if you want me, I don't come cheap  
__Keep your head in my hand, your heart on your sleeve_

"Fuck," Max cursed under her breath, digging her blood red fingernails into her eye sockets. There was too much work, too much stress, too much _everything_. She couldn't focus on the papers Lily had laid out for her to approve, and she couldn't focus on any of her 'Oracle' research (as she liked to call it) when she was at home. She couldn't do much of anything.

She needed to _do_ something- something physical that would take her mind off her inability to do anything else. Maybe she needed to go for a run. Or at very least just walking around the building.

Yes, that was what she'd do. She would go for a walk around the Wayne-Powers building. She stood up, automatically straightening her black pencil skirt and checking her red blouse for any creases or stains. Anymore, she found herself naturally gravitating towards black and red in her wardrobe, and she couldn't think of day in the last month where something in her outfit wasn't red.

She knew it meant she was probably getting too close to her secondary job, but it was a habit that she didn't have the heart to break at this point.

She glared down at her feet, crammed into a pair of cherry red patent leather heels. God, she wished she had her sneakers with her. Or flip-flops. What she would give to take a stroll around the building in flip-flops…

The speaker crackled, and Lily's voice filled in, timid and hesitant as ever. "Umm… Ms. Gibson? There's, uh, well, Mr.- Mr. McGinnis is-"

The double-doors slammed open and she spun around. Terry. He strode in, icy eyes blazing, for once totally sober, near as she could tell.

"You got _rid_ of _everything?!_"

_Oh, oh, I do not hook up, up  
__I fall deep  
_'_Cuz the more that you try, the harder I'll fight  
__To say-_

She met his eyes with an even stare of her own. "Yes," she replied, straightening her spine and lifting her chin. "I should've done it earlier."

She threw out all the alcohol in the mansion. All of it. Okay, she kept what she considered to be the important bottles- a 1995 bottle of Cristal with an estimated value of about $8,000, and there was that aging bottle of cognac with a tag around its neck that read, "Dear Brucie, Happy X-mas. From Isis, with love" in looping cursive- but other than a half a dozen or so that she was keeping locked in her own personal safe, everything in the mansion had been trashed.

He didn't need it.

She knew this wasn't the right way to go about confronting a alcoholic with their disease, but his was a very special case.

And frankly, after Monday night's debacle, she didn't have the patience to try anything else out.

"You don't need the booze," she said, jaw set and shoulders thrown back. She needed to be strong. She needed to show him that she wasn't going to back down. She had a weakness for him, and he knew it. It was about damned time she started curing her own addictions. "We both know it. Monday was just proof that it's let you slip too far."

He stared at her like she was insane. "You thought that- that that _kiss_ was just because I was drunk and nothing else?"

She stopped being strong long enough to stare at him in confusion. "Then what was it?"

For the second time in a week, he crossed the room and kissed her.

'_Cuz I feel  
__The distance  
__Between us  
__Could be over  
__With the snap of your fingers_

Under the past week's circumstances, she believed she was totally in her right to pour herself a very full glass of merlot. She was finally back in her apartment, no worries, able to sit back and breathe. She was Terry's old high school wrestling hoodie- though she'd had it for so long that she just thought of it as _her_ hoodie- and a pair of red shorts.

It was really great to wear whatever the hell she wanted to wear.

It was even better to know that she wasn't going to be seeing Terry for the weekend. She didn't think she could handle any more drama for a while.

Not that this was _really_ drama. She should've expected he was going to try this eventually. After Bruce died, things got… difficult for Terry. He threw all his time into the Bat, letting his position as the new CEO of Wayne-Powers fall to the sidelines. Max had already been working at the company for some time, so she was forced to quickly step in and take the brunt of the work (and everyone else's flak) herself.

Dana, meanwhile, was engaged to Terry, and had been for the last year. They were scheduled to be married in the upcoming May when Bruce died in late January. At first, Dana kept up the good fiancé role, pushing the wedding back until September, because she knew Terry wouldn't be ready. And then she pushed it back 'til December. And then March.

Around February, she gave up completely and walked out.

That left all the responsibility squarely on Max's shoulders, now forced to waffle between best friend, confidant, boss, and girlfriend.

Terry drunkenly kissing her wasn't the first time it had happened. It was just the first time he hadn't called her 'Dana' and she had actually _wanted_ it to continue.

Which was bad. _Very_ bad. Which was why she needed this weekend free of Terry.

"Max."

Dammit…

_Oh, oh, I do not hook up, up  
__I go slow  
__So if you want me, I don't come cheap  
__Keep your head in my hand, your heart on your sleeve_

He pulled off the mask, letting it drop to the floor as he stared at her with a gaze that could only be described as smoldering. She swallowed, feeling every nerve in her body begin to tingle in anticipation.

"I haven't drank any alcohol since Tuesday," he said, voice low- even lower and deeper than it usually was, causing pleasant shivers to run down her spine. "And I'm in the Batsuit. So you can't claim this is because I'm drunk."

He was beginning to walk towards her, so she started taking a few precautionary steps back, never breaking eye contact. "Ter," she said, shaking her head slowly, "We can't do this. Even if you stay sober, this would-"

"If you want me to stay sober, I will," he said, so simply and matter-of-fact that she couldn't help but imagine how much easier life would be if that was true. "And if you want to quit working at Wayne-Powers and stop wearing all the business suits and high heels that you hate so much- because I know you hate them, don't bother denying it- you can." He kept advancing, and she kept backing up- right until the back of her legs hit the arm of the sofa.

She didn't have anywhere else to go, unless she was planning on skirting the coffee table, hopping over the loveseat, and making a break for the large bay window he just entered, but that was all too complicated and too cowardly for her to really even consider. So she was stuck there, watching cautiously as he continued to walk closer and corner her even further.

"I'm willing to do all this for a reason," he said, his voice still low and deep, but much softer now, so if there had been anyone else in the room, she probably would've been the only one to hear him. "You're pretty much all I have left, Max. There's still my mom and Matt, but they don't understand me the way you do." He stepped forward, essentially closing the distance between them, and cupped her jaw with his gloved hand, smiling slightly. "I know you feel the same way, too."

_Oh, oh, I do not hook up, up  
__I fall deep  
_'_Cuz the more that you try, the harder I'll fight  
__To say  
_'_Cuz the more that you try, the harder I'll fight  
__To say  
__Goodnight_

Max was fighting back tears at this point. He was right, and deep down, she knew it. Only he could make her cry. She looked away, trying to quell all of the emotions bubbling to the surface, and whispered, "It's too complicated. We can't just become something after all this time. Too much has… happened."

He chuckled, eyes darkening from the usual icy blue to something darker, murkier- clouded with emotion and something else, something that made her stomach tighten in anticipation. "If you really believed that was true, you pulse wouldn't be racing right now," he said, leaning forward until his face was mere inches from hers and causing her to inhale sharply, full lips parted slightly. "The suit's biometrics can come in handy sometimes, don't you think?"

Her mind told her to keep up her façade, keep up her role as the perfect best friend, not risk hurting herself and more than likely Terry in the process, too. But…

He tugged her face to his, closing the space between them and kissing her. And, _finally_, she decided to throw the rule book out the window and kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck, tongue sliding eagerly against his own.

_Screw it_, she thought, letting him pick her up so she could wrap her legs securely around his waist. This was just too damned good to give up.

Maybe Terry was _her_ coping mechanism.

_Oh, sweetheart, put the bottle down  
_'_Cuz you don't wanna miss out…_

$4$

This is 3,300 words. The average oneshot for _IBtL_ is about 1,500-2,000. I'm sooo proud right now. :D I think this was really, really good. I'm not sure why, but this is one of the few ones that I absolutely adored.

The ending is probably the only thing I'm a _teensy_ bit unsure of, so if you guys think it was awkward, just tell me. I really think this was good, because it turned out basically exactly as I wanted it, even if it was uber-angsty. I'm starting to love angst because I'm just happy that I'm improving because I'm so happy in my 'Comedy/Romance' bubble that I'm proud that I can handle other genres. :)

Now, I'm going to post this just so I can please all you lovelies that are so so _so_ reliable in reviewing me every time I post!!!! :Hugs!:


	15. Trust

I realize that I _just_ put up a new oneshot-drabble-thingy for _Prismacolor Shadows_, but I don't update _IBtL_ half as often as I really should, so I'm posting this anyway just so you guys don't think I'm a totally flighty pain in the ass. ;)

I was thinking about it recently and going over all unfinished songshots for _IBtL_ and I realized that I have a shitload of all Adult!Max and Terry storylines, but only a handful are about them during the _BB_ timeline.

This just gave me the excuse to scour (literally, _scour_) my iPod for good songs that might fit Teenage!Max and Terry.

…This is what I got. XD

(P.S.: Spitzer is Max's cat. I can't remember if they ever said that explicitly in the show, but if they didn't/I'm wrong just pretend as though I decided to name the cat Spitzer on purpose. ;) )

$4$

**Title:**

**Pairing:** Max/Terry.

**Song and Band:** "That's What You Get" by Paramore

**Rating:** T.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Literally. NOTHING.

#3#

Max hadn't gone to school in 3 days.

She didn't skip class- not normally, anyway. This, however, was hardly a normal situation, and more than merited a less than normal reaction.

So, she curled up in her bed, along with Spitzer, a box of tissues, her laptop, her favorite MacPC MP3 player, half a dozen DVDs, an array of junk food, and her remote. She didn't move from Sunday until Thursday night, when there was a series of loud crashes and the _crack_ and _thud_ of what she guessed was the door being kicked in.

She didn't move a muscle, not even when she heard the heavy footsteps come down the hallway, headed straight for her bedroom. She kept her eyes glued to the TV, still streaming her favorite classic, _Die Hard_.

"Where the hell have you been?" Terry asked, slamming the door open.

_No sir, well, I don't wanna be the blame,  
__Not anymore  
__It's your turn to take a seat- we're settling  
__The final score  
__And why do we lie to her so much?_

Max said nothing. She reached for the remote, giving Spitzer a quick rub behind the ears and pressing the 'UP' button to make the TV's volume louder.

"Don't think you can just _ignore_ me after the last week," Terry snapped tersely, storming into the room. He looked like hell, she observed from the corner of her eye (she was still pretending to watch the movie, eyes locked steadfastly on the screen).

Granted, she had a feeling she didn't look much better than him- actually, probably worse, considering she hadn't changed out of the sweats she threw on Saturday night, let alone showered.

"We have to _talk_."

There was a sharp noise, something that sounded a lot like a snort. It took Max a couple seconds to realize it had come from her, and when she did she felt her face flush hotly.

Terry sort of half-laughed, but the sound was hollow and devoid of humor. "I guess you can hear me, then," he said.

_I can't decide  
__You have made it harder just to go on  
__And why?  
__All the possibilities, well, I was wrong_

Max stared at the screen hard, trying to ignore Terry's comments and overall impossible-to-ignore presence. She had been planning to go back to school on Thursday, but of course he couldn't wait that long. He had to go and break into her freakin' house just so he could grill her.

And that was another thing. He didn't need to grill her- he knew _damned well_ why she had decided to skip school for the last 3 days. He was half the reason why, for God's sake.

"Can you please leave now?" Max said, her voice quiet but strong. She didn't move from where she was curled up around all her blankets and comforters, arm tucked under her pillow, propping up her head.

Terry laughed again, yanking off his brown leather jacket and tossing it across the room. "No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not going to _leave now_. We need to _talk_."

Finally, she broke. It wasn't pretty but it been building up quickly since she first heard that telltale _crack_ on her door. "Well, that's tough," Max snapped, sitting up, causing a wave of used tissues, empty bags of chips and pretzels, and crumbs to shift. "'Cause I _really_ don't wanna talk to you."

_That's what you get when you let your heart win  
__Whoa, that's what you get when you let your heart win  
__Whoa, I drowned out all my sense with  
__The sound of this beating  
__And that's what you get when you let your heart win  
__Whoa…_

Terry didn't say anything for a long moment, staring at her hard with disbelief. He ran both hands through his longish hair, looking away and sighing. "What the hell is going on, Max?" he asked tiredly.

She moved, pulling her knees up and resting her elbows on them, chin resting on her forearms. "Do you really need to ask that question?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. "We both know you're smart enough to know the answer without asking. You _were_ there, after all."

Max reached over, pressing the 'Pause' button on the remote and watching closely out of the corner of her eye as Terry stilled, muscles tensing in surprise.

"I said I was sorry," he finally replied, voice low. His icy blue eyes were clouded, and she could practically feel the pain and regret he was radiating.

"Your apology wasn't the problem," she mumbled, staring at the frozen screen like it might hold all the answers to her problems. _Their_ problems.

"Then what the hell _was?!_"

She sighed, finally locking eyes with him. "The problem is that it happened at all."

_I wonder  
__How am I supposed to feel when you're not here?  
_'_Cuz I burned  
__Every bridge I ever built when you were here  
__I still try  
__Holding on to silly things- I never learned  
__Oh, why  
__All the possibilities, I'm sure you've heard_

Max hesitated. "You're dating Dana," she continued quietly, dark brown eyes softening as she studied his face. "And that's fine, I mean, you guys make a great couple, but I just can't be around you right now, and Saturday if anything cemented it forever to me."

He was silent, possibly stunned into silence, possibly too busy thinking to talk. Either way, she purposely turned her gaze back to the TV so she didn't have to witness his reaction, because it would make what she had to say ten times harder.

"I can't spend time with you anymore. Just… this has to end."

This time Terry was definitely stunned into silence. "_What?_" he said, taking a step back. "What the _hell_ does that even _mean?_"

Max drew her knees up to her chest, pulling her sheets with her and causing Spitzer to cry and knock over a few more bags of empty junk food before settling back at the foot of her bed. "We can't hang out anymore, Ter," she said softly. "It's just not a good idea."

"It hurts too much to stay friends with you."

_That's what you get when you let your heart win  
__Whoa, that's what you get when you let your heart win  
__Whoa, I drowned out all my sense with  
__The sound of this beating  
__And that's what you get when you let your heart win  
__Whoa…_

He let out a choked noise of frustration and the hurt she saw plastered all across his face almost ripped a sob from her chest. She knew she wasn't going to be able to do this…

There was a noise, and Max realized it had come from the back of _her_ throat. She was sobbing, now. "Come on, Ter," she said, face crumpling. "We kissed. What did you really expect to happen?"

She leans back, burying her face in her hands so he won't have to see the tears that are starting to leak out of the corners of her cheeks. "I can't stay friends with you and still feel this way. It's just not fair to me."

Maybe she was being selfish. It was hard, because she knew, despite what Wayne always said, she was a pretty integral part to their little 'team,' if only to offer emotional support. If she wanted to get back to 'normal' Max, she needed to stay away from Terry completely- and that included when he was in the suit.

"I'm sorry, Ter," she said, looking up at him sadly. "I really am. I just… I can't be around you anymore."

_Hey, make your way to me, to me  
__And I'll always be just so inviting  
__If I ever start to think straight  
__This heart will start a riot in me  
__Let's start, start, hey!_

Max wasn't there when it happened.

It was a week after she went back to school. She was in the library, finishing up the last bit of research for her Technology History class as she texted Chelsea from two computer terminals over. Ten minutes before lunch ended, Blade came barrel-assing into the library, totally blowing past ancient Ms. Kretz and heading straight for them.

"You will _not_ believe what just happened," she announced, completely ignoring (or maybe oblivios to) Ms. Kretz's stern glare and loud shushing. Her pale grey-blue eyes were open exaggeratedly wide as she flipped her platinum hair over her shoulder.

Chelsea exchanged a curious look with Max, eyebrows knitting together. "Oookay," she said slowly, "I give up. What happened?"

Blade grinned, suddenly turning decidedly devilish. "Your bestie just _canned_ McGinnis in front of the _entire_ lunchroom," she said, putting her hand on her cocked hip. "One of Hamilton High's hottest guys is back on the market."

Max felt her whole body tense up and freeze, mind going blank as she processed the information.

Oh… _fuck_.

_Why do we lie to her so much?  
__Oh, why do we lie to her so much?_

She wasn't there to watch it happen, but Max still knew instinctively where Terry would be.

As the last bell of the day rang, Max pushed open the wide double-doors, stepping soundlessly into the gym. She slowed down when she spotted Terry sitting in the middle of the wrestling mat, dejected. He looked like a little kid that had been beaten up. It was so sad Max couldn't even bear to stick to her plan of avoiding him.

"Hey," she said, her voice soft, but even the slight sound carried across the room like a shout. Terry lifted up his head, expression morphing to one of shock.

She walked across the room, fiddling with her backpack nervously. "I heard what happened earlier," she said, face serious. "I'm sorry."

He snorted softly, looking almost hollow. "Is this what it takes to make you talk to me again?"

She managed a small smile, dropping her bag on the ground and sitting down next to it, still a safe distance from him. "Maybe," she said, smiling a little wider.

_That's what you get when you let your heart win  
__Whoa, that's what you get when you let your heart win  
__Whoa…_

"I told Dana that I kissed you," he said, somber. "I told her I was upset- which was mostly true, because I was upset about what I have to see as Batman- and I drank and I took advantage of you when you were just trying to help me out."

"And then she dumped me."

Max was quiet, thinking. Terry was mostly right- he had witnessed a _really_ rough night, from a hostage situation to getting to girl too late to stop her from being gang raped, and he made the mistake of going to her house and drinking after. But he didn't take _advantage_ of her. He kissed her.

And she kissed him back.

"You're my best friend, Ter," she said. "And I do love you. But- I can't _just_ be friends with you right now." She sobbed, glancing away from him for a moment long enough to collect herself. "I would be lying if I said I could."

_That's what you get when you let your heart win  
__Whoa, that's what you get when you let your heart win  
__Whoa…  
__No I can't trust myself with anything but this  
__That's what you get when you let your heart win  
__Whoa…_

She shuts her eyes, bowing her head in shame. She felt more than heard the mat shift as he moved, and before she could open her eyes he had cupped her chin in his hand and was tilting her head up, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

Max felt the tears begin to slide freely down her cheeks, but she kissed him back, feeling his lips slant over hers, coaxing more of a reaction out of her.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, leaning forward enough that she could close the dwindling distance between their bodies. Drunk or sober, it didn't change. Kissing him just felt _right_. It was as though they had been doing this for ages- it was just natural. No hesitations, no awkwardness.

When breathing became a problem, max pulled away, breaths short and uneven. "This is going to start to become a habit if we keep it up," she whispered, searching his icy blue eyes for any lingering doubts.

Terry grinned at her confidently, resting his forehead against hers as he playfully bumped noses. "This was already a habit for me."

She grinned dopily back, despite herself, and tilted her head up to capture his lips in a lazy kiss once more.

She had to admit, he was right.

$4$

Well, they're in high school for once- the drama-infested hellhole that it is (I'm kidding, I swear. I actually liked high school- most of the time). XD

However, I stuck to what appears to be my new theme of atrociously angsty to sugary sweet (be jealous of my alliteration, English geeks ;) ). Luckily, I have 3 new songshots in the works, and not one of them looks like they'll turn angsty (just super, super fluffy). I can't guarantee when you guys will see them, but I promise it'll be soon.


	16. Not Quite Existing

It's been 3 years since I started writing these oneshots, and I only have 16 done. I feel like that's kind of pathetic but I don't ultimately mind because it's cool to see the progression of my writing in only a few years.

I suddenly got a second wind after getting some fun inspiration from a new TV show (_Cover Affairs_ on the USA channel, for those curious), so I've been using my time to try and crank out new stuff for all of my many, many (_many_) fandoms.

Hopefully, I'll have a new _Prismacolors_ drabble out for you guys soon, too. :D

Okay, so I'm not uber-original because this I've actually used this song not all that long ago, but because that was for the little song quotes I use at the top of every one of my oneshots/chapters, I figure you can ignore it this time. ;)

#3#

**Title:**

**Pairing:** Max/Terry.

**Song and Artist: **"Who'd Have Known" by Lily Allen

**Rating:** You guys know this. T.

**Disclaimer:** I don't anything, plus the song, Lily Allen, or the WB. :(

$4$

_It's 5 o'clock in the morning  
__Conversation got boring  
__Said you're going to bed soon  
__So I snuck off to your bedroom  
__And I thought I'd just wait there  
__Until I heard you come up the stairs  
__And I was hoping you would creep in  
__With me._

"Is it over yet?"

Max looked up from her laptop, half focused on adding new music to her ever-growing collection while the other half was busy tweaking a new computer program Wayne-Powers was gearing up to release sometime next February.

Lucy Winters had asked the question, staring down at Max impatiently as she pressed a manicured hand on the large marble desk. Lucy was Terry's personal secretary and one of Max's closest friends at Wayne-Powers. She wasn't liked so much by other members- she was short with the big bosses, mouthy with her coworkers, and plain snarky 24/7.

But she was fun to be around, and Terry certainly seemed to understand her not-charm as well as Max did, so Lucy kept her job- barely.

"What do you mean?" Max asked, brows furrowing in confusion. She was hardly doing anything offensive- and Lucy, who had already slept with two of the CEOs and was currently setting her eyes on the new guy, Greg, who happened to be another tech geek like Max, was the master of the offensive.

Lucy rolled her eyes, tossing bottle blonde hair over her shoulder and leaning on the edge of the desk. "Oh, please. You're practically reeking of sunshine and rainbows and kitties," she said, slight Brooklyn accent as usual blurring her Ts.

Feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, Max immediately broke eye contact and brought up the window of the computer code she had been working on and feigned sudden interest. "I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled.

"Bullshit," Lucy replied flatly. "You're rocking the Honeymoon Phase pretty damn hard. Anyone that's ever been in a relationship can spot it from a mile away. I take it that just means you and the mystery man are _finally_ shacking up."

Max said nothing.

_Put your arm around my shoulder  
__And it was good the room got colder  
__We moved closer in together  
__Started talkin' 'bout the weather  
__You said tomorrow would be fun  
__We could watch your place in the sun  
__I didn't know where this was going  
__When you kissed me._

"We gotta talk to Clark," Terry said, tossing his mask on the chair- _the_ chair, the one Wayne used to live in like it was his job until old age made him bedridden and Max took it upon herself to take over his job behind the Batcomputer- and crossing the large cave. Max was busy preparing the medkit, getting the rubbing alcohol and swabs out to clean the nasty cut on his left shoulder.

"I don't know who this dumbass is, but he needs to realize that Livewire was actually a girl and calling himself by the same name is just embarrassing," he continued, peeling off the top portion of his suit as he did.

Even with his scars, Max had a hard time not appreciating Terry's finely tuned torso. The man was all lean sinew and muscle over a strong frame. Of course, she had worked with him long enough to keep her peeks to a bare minimum, focusing more on the large bandages she'd need to soak up the blood that was beginning to clot sluggishly around the wound.

"For that matter, why is that dreg even here?" Terry continued, apparently content to rant halfheartedly even though he knew she was only barely listening. "Livewire was Superman's villain. I have enough of them to go around as it is, I say I have the right to ship him off to Metropolis and let Rex and Barda deal with the little bitch."

Max's lips quirked up into a smile, but otherwise she made no comment. She watched silently from her peripheral vision as he walked around the side of the metal table and faced her, grinning wryly.

"So how do I look, Doc?"

Totally edible, but Max was an adult and getting distracted flirting with Terry would just lead to bad things, like infected wounds and a serious misuse of the med-table. "You look like you got your ass handed to you by a guy going by a woman's name," she said, grinning back.

_Are you mine, are you mine?  
_'_Cuz I stay here all the time  
__Watching telly, drinking wine  
__Who'd have known, who'd have known  
__When you flash up on my phone  
__I no longer feel alone  
__No longer feel alone_

Max dropped her grin, trying to focus on cleaning his wound. 'Trying' was the key word, because Terry clearly had very different things in mind as he stepped even closer, towering over her until his chest bumped her shoulder and he was seriously invading her personal space.

Not that she really cared if he invaded her personal space- really, she welcomed it. That wasn't a very appropriate thought for someone who happened to be his best friend and coworker, not to mention the one and only Oracle (she thought taking on the Commissioner's old moniker was a particular stroke of genius).

"The wound should heal up just fine," she said. She was damn proud of the way her voice didn't waver as she efficiently clean the nasty cut on his shoulder that arced down past his clavicle and almost to right over his heart. "You're lucky it's only shallow, otherwise we might need a hell of a lot more than alcohol swabs and gauze."

"I'll agree with you about being lucky," he said, his voice low and gravelly around the edges. Shit, he _knew_ that always screwed with her, the bastard. "But I think that has less to do with this cut and more to do with you."

_I haven't left you for days now  
__And I'm becoming amazed how  
__You're quite affectionate in public  
__In fact, your friend said it made her feel sick  
__And even though it's movin' forward  
__There's just the right amount of awkward  
__And today you accidentally  
__Called me baby._

"You do realize that we're gonna have to leave eventually," Max pointed out wryly, stretching against the sheets and running her fingers through her messed up bright pink hair. "It's been almost three days and if we don't come into work tomorrow or contact someone, Lucy will probably do something drastic, like call the FBI or a SWAT team."

Terry laughed, snaking an arm under her narrow waist and curling until she twisted around and snuggled into his side. "Lucy's also melodramatic," he said, burying his face in her soft hair. "And you're starting to act the same way."

Max let out a tiny girlish noise of discontent and punched Terry in the ribs, feeling a certain level of satisfaction from the way he let out a pained exhale. "Do you really want to test to see if Lucy does something drastic, 'cuz I sure as hell don't," she said, resting her head on his muscular shoulder.

He snorted, wrapping his other arm around her curvy body and inhaling the spicy yet clean scent of his girlfriend. "I think she'll survive the stress. We can skip one more day. No one will notice."

Rolling her eyes, she smirked. "I'm pretty sure _everyone_ is going to notice how the youngest CEO and his best friend/head of his Tech Department haven't been heard from since Friday. Hell, everyone probably already knows _now_. We're a very gossipy company."

_Are you mine, are you mine?  
_'_Cuz I stay here all the time  
__Watching telly, drinking wine  
__Who'd have known, who'd have known  
__When you flash up on my phone  
__I no longer feel alone_

"Oh. My. God."

Max froze in her tracks, halfway to handing Terry the FoxTech folder he had needed. Lucy was staring at her, kohl-lined eyes bugging out of their sockets while she was supposed to be relaying Terry's appointments for the day.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her hand going up to fiddle with her diamond-stud earring nervously. Terry took the folder from her slowly and they made brief hesitant eye contact.

"Somebody _finally_ got laid," Lucy said, cherry-slicked lips stretching to a wide smile. "About damned time, too, 'cuz you and that guy have been skirting around it _for-eh-ver._"

Taking a sharp breath, Max sent Lucy a tight, pointed smile. "Umm, can we not talk about this right now?" she said, making sure she didn't even _think_ to make eye contact with Terry. God only knows how he was taking all of this.

"Oh, c'mon," Lucy said affably, waving her hand as she dropped the notes on Terry's desk without a second's thought. "Mr. McGinnis is like your BFF, right? I'm sure he can get over the idea of you _finally_ having sex. I mean, it's been like ages."

If she wasn't already blushing before, she was scarlet now. "Lucy," she growled through clenched white teeth. "_Drop it._"

_Let's just stay, let's just stay  
__I wanna lie in bed all day  
__We'll be laughing all the way  
__Told your friends, they all know  
__We exist but we're takin' it slow  
__Let's just see how we go  
__Let's see how we go_

After several minutes of tense and awkward conversation, Lucy quickly hightailed it out of Terry's office- about damned time, too.

"So, it's been ages, has it?" Terry said after a note of heavy silence. His grin was completely insufferable, and she just _knew_ he wasn't going to drop this one easily.

Max frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "No, it has not been _ages_," she said, not even bothering to hold back a scowl. "Lucy's just melodramatic."

"Hmmm, Nonetheless," Terry said, leaning back lazily in his seat. "I feel like I should meet this mystery man, just to check him out. Make sure he's not secretly masquerading as Livewire at night."

She laughed at that, walking around and leaning her hip against the side of his desk. "Somehow I doubt he dresses up like Livewire at night," she replied, dark eyes dancing in the light. "However, if you were to substitute 'Livewire' with 'pretentious Kevlar-clad dumbass with a penchant for bats,' then yeah, I'd agree to that."

Rising to his full height, Terry walked over to her until he was mere inches away. "You're full of shit," he said bluntly, tilting his head down just a little further. "You totally love the Batsuit."

_Are you mine, are you mine?  
_'_Cuz I stay here all the time  
__Watching telly, drinking wine  
__Who'd have known, who'd have known  
__When you flash up on my phone  
__I no longer feel alone_

In lieu of a response, Max rose to her tiptoes and closed the gap between their mouths.

She was getting very close to addicted to this- the familiar heat between them, the way he cupped the back of her neck as he traced her jawline, how she could never resist the urge to trace the muscles on his back with her fingertips.

Terry spun her around, pinning her with his hips to the desk. She tilted her head up, inhaling sharply when sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. She loved their undeniable give and take, something that made her toes curl and her stomach flip-flop every single time.

"Ooh, Mr. McGinnis, I almost forgot- holy hell!"

Max and Terry broke away immediately, but she could tell by Lucy's expression that it was way, way too late.

Glancing over at Max, Terry smiled- albeit somewhat guiltily- at Lucy and shrugged. "So much for mystery man."

_Let's just stay, let's just stay  
__I wanna lie in bed all day  
__We'll be laughing all the way  
__Told your friends, they all know  
__We exist but we're takin' it slow  
__Now let's just see how we go  
__Let's see how we go_

$4$

Whew. 'Nother long one, but it was fun. Lately I keep writing such angsty downers in this collection, that it's rare when I finally make something happy. This was total fluff, but I'm proud of it 'cuz fluff is just entertaining.


End file.
